


Padded x2

by louisovermyknee



Series: Padded [2]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Baby Harry, Bottom Harry, Butt Plugs, Butt Slapping, Child Harry, Child Harry Styles, Christmas, Christmas Party, Corporal Punishment, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Louis, Fluff and Smut, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Get Married, Infantilism, M/M, Punishment, Robbery, Sex Toys, Spanking, Top Louis, Wedding Planning, Weddings, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisovermyknee/pseuds/louisovermyknee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Padded.<br/>The age play saga continues as Louis and Harry live the diapered life up to the fullest. With obstacles, struggles and a wedding on the way, they how many adventures they can go through before they make it to the honeymoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devoted Awakening

**Harry POV**

Along with the lack of oxygen, fainting is caused by rapid change in blood pressure, difficulty in the nervous system and overwhelming anxiety from a proposal on the kiss cam. It was no wonder I fell at the sight of a ring. Although I was quite surprised by Louis’s intention of getting down on one knee, I was angry at him. That being said, I did not despise _him_. I despised his plan of location. No one wants to be put in the center of attention out of the blue. Why my daddy imagined it to be a grand idea was beyond me.

            When I finally opened my eyes, a hazy, beige ceiling met my gaze. I blinked at the florescent lights and my vision became clearer. For whatever the reason, my head felt soft yet heavy. It took me a moment to realize that I had woken up in a hospital bed. My breathing was calm but my bedside guest’s was not.

            “Harry! Oh my gosh,” Louis dashed to my side like a madman; “Are you OK? How are you feeling?”

            I did not answer him. Instead, I helped myself sit up and brought my hand up to rub at my eyelids. I found my voice despite the temporary stagger.

“W-what a balmy dream!”

            “Balmy? What?”

            I paid no regards to the rules. I said, “Louis, it was so weird. I dreamt we were at a game and you got down on one knee and …”

I looked down and spotted the cause of my unconscious breakdown. The ring, shining with silver, sat in the slot of a brown case. It was placed right before me on a table that slid over my position in bed. Feeling the traits of a heart attack, my eyes boggled and I nearly screamed as I fell back in my pillow.

“OH MY-”

            “Whoa, hey!” Louis rested his hand on my shoulder, hoping to comfort me in my bed-ridden condition. “No,” he had me take a few deep breaths so he wouldn’t lose me for a second time; “Not again.”

            “Ow,” I felt a sudden rush on the back of my head.

My hand rose up to touch the area that had suddenly became irritated. There was a long stretch of gauze that wrapped around my crown and forehead, feeling warm to the touch. The area was also moist in spite of the ice pack and I did not need a mirror to see that it was red.

Befuddled from the impact, I asked, “What happened?”

            My daddy’s answer was plain and simple. “I popped the question and you fell on your head.”

            “Yep,” another persona was made recognizable. “Right on the armrest,” the nurse I met earlier stated her opinion. “I swear, those stadium seats can be dangerous, I’m telling you. Now, Harry, as for that bump, you’ve got a minor case of hematoma.”

            Teresa directed the information over to me but I was very confused. I did not know if it was because of my wound or the stress of waking up from a faint but I was pretty sure it was because I did not understand her use of vocabulary. Turning my head, I saw that Louis was confused too. Nobody said anything, so the nurse continued.

            “Hematoma,” Teresa repeated; “Bruising and swelling of the head; you’re lucky you didn’t crack your skull.”

            “Oh,” I paused.

            I made an attempt to remember exactly what had happened. There was a ring involved, I could see that. I fell on my head, as the nurse had explained. Because of the location I was resigning, I must have been rushed to the hospital even though the memory of an ambulance was not imbedded in my brain in any sort of way. As for the main attraction, Louis popped the question, yes, but did I answer him? I couldn’t recall. This benefited me to a great extent-it gave me time to think.

            Louis thanked Teresa for her care and made a request. “Could you leave us alone, please? I think Harry and I should have a talk in private, if it’s alright.”

            “As you wish,” Teresa nodded her head and then spoke to me for a final time; “Call me if you start to vomit.”

“What?” I gasped, afraid that I was in more danger than I had suspected.

“Don’t worry! It’s not that major. There’s a bucket in the toilet if you need it. Boy, the fans reactions …” Her voice faded away as she exited out of the room and into the hall.

Louis took the liberty of closing the door. Now that we were alone together, I could have a long, severely needed talk with my daddy. Honestly, that was the only thing I wanted after having such a knockout.

            “Well,” Louis mumbled as he returned to my bedside again, “we’ve started quite a ruckus during halftime.”

            “Oh, yeah _you_ did.” I made sure to imply that he was the reason for all that had happened.

            “I don’t know if we won the game but I’m so glad you woke up. I thought you were a goner.”

            I assured my papa that I was fine despite the fact that I was not. I knew that I would not go through the day without having my thoughts on the proposal expressed. My solution to the problem was clear. I decided to have a talk with my daddy.

            “But, Louis,” I started, “why did you do that?”

“What? Propose to you? Because I love you, silly!” Louis flashed a smile at me. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” It looked like he didn’t even know what I was talking about.

I frowned out a reply; “I’m very glad about that, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not what I mean.” The grin that shined with passion slowly faded away. It was Louis’s turn to frown and I continued.

“You put me on the kiss cam for all to see. You got down on one knee. You popped the question in front of thousands of strangers and after putting me in the spotlight like that, you’re expecting me to answer a yes or no question under that much stress? I thought you said public embarrassment is not your cup of tea.”

Louis listened and tried to speak. “Harry, I-”

“No,” I interrupted; “You made a fool out of yourself. You embarrassed us. You embarrassed me and I’ve got a bump on the head to show for it.” I raised my hand to feel the impact zone again. Anger filled up inside of me and was piled high beneath the ice pack. “Now everyone will see me take a mighty fall on the news tonight, I guarantee it.”

Even though protesting and arguing was not a favor to my daddy, I wanted to get my point fixed straight. I wanted him to understand my pain and stress over my pending decision on whether or not I could forgive him. Louis’s lips opened up to speak but nothing came out. It was as if he could not configure his words together. A few quiet seconds had passed before a reply was exerted.

“Harry,” he murmured; “You’re right. You are absolutely right. I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m so sorry-it was our first date in such a long time and I didn’t even think about it. And you’re head, I’m so sorry.”

Although his apology was lethal and entirely applicable, I did not believe him at first. For how do you apologize for humiliation? Sorry does not turn back the clock. Sorry does not move the eyes off the camera. And, as far as I knew, sorry certainly does not guarantee a wedding day. My arched eyebrows lightened slightly after a while. Then, Louis let out a breath.

“I completely understand if you don’t want to accept this ring,” Louis grasped the box before me to close it shut. The case snapped and he was about to return it to his jacket pocket when I gave him a warmer shoulder.

            “I never said that.”

This got my papa’s attention.

“Anyone who goes through all that trouble just to put me on the big screen and apologizes for it afterwards is one man I’d never forget. We’ve been together all these years, darling. You comforted me in times of need. And when the same man that changes my diaper asks me to marry him, it’s an opportunity I simply cannot miss.”

I spoke the truth. Pushing my anger and rage aside, I turned my emotions around to focus on the matter that started everything. Sure, Louis made a silly mistake but it was all in the act of romance and dream. He planned everything out just for the sake of my hand in marriage. Of course, he humiliated the both of us but if you flip the coin over, you’d see just how much love he had for me in the first place. Now, it was up to me to handle the ring.

“I just have one question.”

            “What is it?”

            “Will I have to wear a nappy at the wedding?”

            Laughing, Louis answered; “That’s up to you, sweetheart.”

            “Then yes,” I said, letting Louis breathe a sigh of joy. “I’ll marry you, stupid!”

            A shout blurted out from the lips of my lover. Louis leaped up as if he was jumping from the amount of excitement I had granted him. Needless to say, he was more than happy to have been accepted of the delayed proposal. I saw that he was still holding the box as he celebrated, so I called out to him.

            “Hey, come on, let’s see if it fits!” I waved my left hand over to him.

            Louis strode over, opening the case once more and picking the ring out of its slot. He sat the box down on the table and then reached for my hand. Gently, he aimed the silver band down my ring finger. Just like a charm, it fitted perfectly. I smiled to confirm, looking up to the man who would be with me for the rest of my life. Another smile curled at my daddy’s lips and he lowered his lips down to mine. We kissed as if to celebrate for what was to come. A long life of happiness and loving care was on the horizon and I was sure that we would be ready.

            Although our kiss was a moment to have experienced once in a lifetime, we heard something you do not usually expect at a hospital. An assortment of clapping and cheering was heard on the opposite side of the door. The applause echoed down the hallway. Louis rose from our embrace to investigate the muffled commotion. I watched him open the door and reveal a secret audience that was also celebrating our engagement.

            A journalist with a small notepad in hand showed her interest. Teresa obviously had her ear pressed up against the door. A couple office workers and nurses were staggering along the hallway. It did not take a fool’s chance to see that they were trying to act unfazed from getting caught by the proposer himself. Louis did not find the audience to be funny at all.

            “Were you eavesdropping?” Louis thundered.

The journalist questioned, “So, what did he say?”

            A nurse coaxed, “Please tell me he said yes.”

            “You bet I did!” I answered for my fiancé, having my left hand displayed in the direction of the crowd whilst staying put in bed.

Teresa cheered, throwing her arms in the air. “Hallelujah!” she sang.

Louis rolled his eyes. I didn’t mind. Certainly, with a bump on the head and a ring on my finger, I knew it was going to be a grand day.


	2. World Wide Wreck

**Harry POV**

            An overnight stay in the hospital can be one of the most boring times of them all. Because of my head injury, I was intended to stay in bed until I was checked again the next morning. This meant that I was not allowed to leave my bed until I was permitted to leave. Of course, a few trips to the toilet were my only exception. As for the television that hung on the wall across from me, there was only one channel at my disposal. I shook my head. If there was anything the History Channel did for me, it helped me sleep.

The ring on my finger gave me hope, however. In fact, I was overjoyed with my unexpected engagement. Louis, sadly, had to leave me in the care of the hospital because the visiting hours had passed. He promised me he would arrive early in the morning for me and I believed him. All I had to do was to cure my boredom. A few solutions came along. I dreamt about our wedding. I considered when we’d have it, where we’d have it, what would be there and who would we invite. Surely, I’d want to have a classic ceremony with my family beside me but that meant I’d have to put up with the impotent members that had nothing better to do than complain. Besides that, the cake would taste wonderful, the DJ would consist of fun musical numbers and the bills would be … expensive … _shit._

The entire vision had me in a spin. Then again, it could have just been the bump on my head.

**.           .           .**

            My daddy returned just as he promised. A doctor and nurse reviewed my skull and reported that I was healthy enough to leave. I simply had to be careful and call whenever I had suspected any more injury or illness. Upon reaching the car, my daddy and I had a long discussion about the future on our way home. To sum our conversation up, there was plenty to talk about. Both of us agreed that we would walk through the procedures step by step. From the date of the wedding and everything in between, Louis and I would plan it all together. When I presented the idea of billing and expenses, Louis assured me that we would come up with the payments in some form or other. His response eased my tension but it did not stop me from worrying about it.

When Monday came along, the bakery was bustling with commotion. No, the muffins did not crumble. No, the breads did not spoil. As a matter of fact, there was no problem with the pastries at all. To tell the truth, everyone was interested in me and what I wore on my finger. I was attacked as soon as I entered the employee lounge. My coworkers bombarded me with questions, asking me about my head, what happened when I woke up and everything afterwards. The sudden attention was so overwhelming; I thought I’d pass out again right on the spot.

Luckily, I was able to survive until my shift was over. Because of the stupid phone policy and rules of the road, I could not contact my papa until I had made it home safety. However, once I unlocked my phone and reviewed what my notifications consisted of, I saw that my mother tried to call me a couple times during my working hours. I let out a sigh. My daddy would just have to wait. I dialed my mum’s number and pressed my phone to my ear. She answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi mum.”

“Harry Edward Styles, what in the world happened to you?”

“Well, ma; I can honestly say you must be the hundredth person to ask me that today.”

“I believe you, Harry; but come on! Dish the dirt! Spill the beans! What is this I’m hearing about a kiss cam proposal gone wrong?”

“Gone what?” I feared for the worst.

“Don’t you know? You’re all over the news and Louis too!” The worst came to life.

The next half an hour consisted of learning what was unknown and explaining the already explained. From what my mother revealed to me, the local news casted a report of the kiss cam that involved a proposing stadium employee and a fainting lad. I remembered a journalist visiting the hospital but Louis shooed the eavesdroppers away not long after I accepted the ring. The news shocked me with a dash of excitement and fright. I had never been on the news ever in my life. However, I did not want the world to recognize me for my mighty fall in love.

My mother was relieved when I told her that I was recovering well. I admitted that my headaches had gone away but I kept the truth a secret. After all, I did not want to worry my mum any further. She breathed out a sigh of relief and wished me luck on the future wedding. I made a promise to her that I would inform her all of the facts once Louis and I would discuss them. The only downside to our conversation was the thought of the invitations and the amount of people who would and would not arrive on that special day in the future. Luckily, the idea was brushed to the side as I hung up.

An array of some sort surprised me after I sat my phone down. I asked myself how long I had been speaking to my mother. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was just around the time my papa would come home from work. And, in fact, he was right on schedule. Louis opened the door to the garage with a cell phone plastered onto his ear. He was mumbling in frustration. Then again, it could have just been the stress of explaining everything. I did not judge him for I understood the pain. 

“Come on, mum. I assure you he’s alive and well. … Sure, he hit his head but it’s no big deal.”

 _What?_ I thought to myself, _are they talking about me?_

“Yeah but my hand’s healed up now.” I watched Louis observe his hand while I stood by the kitchen counter. “Mum, I just got home and, you know, he’s right in front of me!”

 I did not have to ask to see if his mother was worried about her son and his fiancé, so I stayed quietly where I was. Everything changed, however, when I was put in the spotlight again at a downgraded circumstance.

“You want to talk to him?”

Panicking, I waved my arms in the air. I mouthed the word _no_ but nothing could stop my daddy from obeying his mother’s commands.

“Ok, here he is.” Louis handed the phone to me and I cursed my fate.

Without any further protests, I picked up the cell phone and said hello. Immediately I was indulged in a razzle-dazzling conversation about the man I love and the trip to the hospital.  Louis rushed away from me as soon as he was given his freedom. At first, I thought it was because he wanted to get away from his mum but I saw that he was heading for the computer. I watched him click and type away like a programmer on steroids while his mother congratulated me even further.

To help ease the tension, I confirmed that my skull was recovering just as Louis had explained. His mum then exclaimed that she would visit with the twins again so she could have a look at what was to be her future son-in-law (though I think all she wanted to see was the ring). I recalled babysitting the little ones and politely stated that it was a pleasure to have them over again. Louis motioned for me to come over quickly so I tried my best to wrap up the call.

“It was nice talking to you,” I spoke into the phone.

“It was, Harry; and congrats on the engagement. Tell Louis to call me anytime, alright?”

“Yes, I will.”

“I’m just so excited. My son’s getting married!”

“I know, I can hardly believe it either. I’ll talk to you later, OK?”

“OK, darling. Good-bye.” The call ended, finally liberating me to speak to my daddy.

“The video!” Louis called to me; “Holy crap!”

“What? Let me see! Let me see!” I ran to Louis’s side to look at the computer screen.

What we saw was an international featurette of our crazy event. The article’s title was printed in bold: _Kiss Cam Proposal Gone Wrong!_ The footage was pasted below a paragraph explaining the origin of what was viewed at the football game. Based on the amount of times the video was watched, it was that point that Louis and I both knew that our date was more than just a trip to the game. We did not simply become engaged. We went viral.

            “Play the video,” I said; “I want to see.”

            My daddy directed his mouse over the player. With a click, the footage of the kiss cam began to roll. A set of memories flew back to me in an instant. The kissing couples pecked away. Another one hugged their session out. Finally, I saw the two men that resembled Louis and me. My embarrassment had shown in an instant. I watched my daddy start his plan in action. From what I had recalled, I had to stand up in order to fall. When Louis began to raise me from my seat, the puzzle pieces were coming together in a quick and orderly fashion. Although I could not hear his words over the shouting fans, I saw my papa’s mouth move in respects to his words. My fingers increasingly began to shake and then Louis put himself in his position, getting down on one knee.

            Screams erupted again and Louis turned down the volume. Based on the look on my face, I knew that I was not going to stand up for long. The little brown box that became quite familiar to me was presented. The case opened, barely revealing the symbol of our engagement. Louis’s lips spoke another sentence and, although I did not understand it, my tremble explained it all. My body began to tilt backwards, tilting away from my seat. I watched my crown come in contact with the armrest. Louis reached for me and shouted. The video of my fainting spell flipped to another scene. It ended with an image of the aftermath. My body, unconscious and strapped onto a stretcher, was being escorted out of the stadium while the second half of the game began.

            “Ouch,” I mumbled. It was as if my head was remembering the experience like an epiphany had sparked.

            “I’ve gotten costumers all day asking me what’s happened to you and if you said yes and just …” He let out a breath, exhausted from the excitement just as I was.

            “Me too,” I exclaimed; “my mum called me while I was at work. Boy, she was ecstatic about it.”

            Louis sighed loudly. Then, he returned with an enthusiastic question. “Is this what we can call our 10 minutes of fame?”

            “Yeah, I said; “I guess you could call it that.” Though, admittedly, I hoped that the attention would not last forever. There was a small pause in the atmosphere before I realized something that was quite important to the relationship between my daddy and me.

            “Umm … papa?”

            “Yes?”

            “Aren’t we forgetting something?” I looked down, then back at Louis.

            There was a stutter at first but he soon understood. “Oh, right! Your nappy; this way, little fella.”

Louis got up from the computer desk to take my hand. He led me through the house to the bedroom where the changing could take place. A faint smile was presented on my lips as I undressed. When I lowered myself onto the floor, I had realized that I would be taken cared for by the man I would love for the rest of my life. To be honest, it made me happier than ever. Padded or not, I could have been the luckiest man in the world to have a guy like Louis. Or, should I say the luckiest baby of them all.


	3. Trouble at the Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** WARNING: The following chapter of Padded x2 may be considered as disgusting to certain readers. Scenes include difficulties in the bathroom and the subject of feces. I apologize in advance but would like to thank you for reading along nonetheless. ***

**Harry POV**

            The bakery I work at designed a policy during their first week in business. Whenever a celebration was in order, treats would be administered. To be honest, none of my coworkers had gotten married or had children so I was quite surprised when I saw that there was a cake on the counter with a card perched on top of it. A white marble masterpiece with delicate flowering petals waited to be eaten. With the words _Congrats on your Engagement_ written in blue cursive frosting, there was not a doubt in my mind that it was a gift for me and my daddy.

            I thanked the bakers for the pastry and they hoped I’d get well soon. The card, too, wished me good luck for my healing skull. Driving home from work, I tried to picture how my daddy would react to the dessert. He’d probably excite himself over the fresh cake that celebrated our coming of marriage. Then again, Louis could question the sudden gift. I imagined one would win over the other as I made my way back home.

After clearing up a shelf, I sat the cake in the fridge. The card was reserved with a magnet on the door. I did not know if I was trying to make it presentable but I felt cheeky nonetheless. Knowing I had just under an hour before my fiancé would come home, I decided to relax a little and check my notifications on my phone. Ever since the kiss cam incident, my ten minutes of fame expanded into a couple days of Q&A. My text messages and phone calls from distant relatives and friends had skyrocketed. I silently prayed that the bill would not reach for the stars as well.

I managed to text back my friends who were excited to hear from me. I did my best to avoid the relatives that were just as caring as strangers. Some of those we responded were either banal or interested in anything and everything. The questions were raving. My answers were requested. I had no other choice but to send myself out. By the time I reached my final aunt and uncle that had nothing better to do than brag about their backyard garden or unemployment, I was exhausted with words of encouragement and interrogation. Hanging up was the best part of the conversation altogether.

About fifteen minutes passed before Louis finally arrived. A cool breeze flew from the door to the garage, signifying that the season of autumn was on the way. I saw my papa fidgeting with his keys as he slit them through his jacket pocket before taking it off. I watched him make his way through the kitchen before he murmured a tired greeting.

“Hey, Haz;” Louis said.

            “Hi,” I smiled; “Daddy.”

            Louis looped the arm slots of his jacket around the chair across from mine. He was quiet at first but soon noticed my sly glaze that was accompanied by my palm resting on my cheek.

“What?” my papa wondered.

            “Nothing,” I chimed.

            “You’ve got a mischievous look on your face. What is it?”

_I just got off the phone with a bunch of interviewers that we’ll have to deal with at our future wedding. I’m trying to brighten the mood, I hope you don’t mind._

            I could have said that but I knew sassiness would not come with awards.

            I finally replied, however, I did not do so without a smirk. “Check the fridge.”

            Turning his head, my daddy fell for the trick. Louis stepped past the counter to stand in front of the fridge. He did not see it at first but the shake of the head showed that he was having second thoughts of what he just saw. The card, still hanging proudly under the magnet, was examined by the husband that was going to be mine. A warm smile tugged at the edge of his lips. I got up from the dining table to join him.

            “Is this it?” Louis inquired with a chuckle.

            “No, not just yet;” I smirked and then presented the gift only a worker from a bakery could receive. “Ta-da!” I sang whilst stepping back so Louis could catch the view of our precious dessert for the night.

            My papa’s eyes boggled. Even though the cake was a decent size for a few more than two, he was just as surprised as I was. He coughed out a gasp, showing his gratitude. He stepped closer to see the words that were lathered in frosting but the location of the shelf and his height did not match up. Propping himself up on his tiptoes, Louis attempted to read what was not to his advantage.

            That’s when I got a magnificent idea. “Hey,” I suggested, “Let me help you.”

            I used my hands to reach around his sides. Pulling up, I made it so Louis was higher in order to see the top of the cake. Truthfully, the entire act had me bubbling up inside. On the opposite side, my daddy was not as flattered from the assistance.

            “H-hey!” Louis quaked; “Don’t forget you’re the baby here!”

            “Oh, no” I quirked out cheekily; “I would never.”

            Accepting the embarrassing fact that he needed help, Louis read what the cake had to offer. “Congrats on your engagement. How nice. Where did you get it?”

            “The guys at the bakery gave it to me. Something about whenever an employee deserves a celebration, they get a cake. So here we are!”

            “Umm, Harry, you can put me down now.”

I noticed that he was not exactly on his toes anymore. My help became more of a hoist once I looked down. Gently, I lowered my fiancé down. Louis reached the floor with a smooth landing. The ringing from the fridge yelled at its owners to shut the door. We complied even though we’d have to open it up again for dinner in the near future. Our dinner consisted of breakfast. The classic combination of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast were served on our plates.

As we ate, we talked about our day at work. Louis confessed that the football stadium was in the process of maintenance plus technological construction. The fooling grass had changed to concrete plates that were considered as the audience floor. The goalie’s nets were packed away in order to build a stage. The soccer ball was traded in for a microphone. The stadium became a concert venue for the winter and Louis was not particularly excited about it.

“I don’t know if I can take it,” Louis grunted after a swallow full of buttered toast; “It’s an entirely different crowd and I’d come home deaf every night.”

“I’m sorry about that, dad. But you know we’ve got to do what we can.”

It was true. Even though Louis assured me at the hospital that we would go step by step during our planning but that did not stop me from getting stuck on the dosh and payments slide. Even though he heard me, my papa was sort of on another page at first.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“For the wedding, daddy;” I explained as I stood up to find the trashcan. Throwing away my leftovers, I continued. “I’m scared that we can’t afford anything. I mean, surely we can’t get too extravagant about it because of how much we make but I really want to make our marriage day special.”

“Did I not tell you?” Louis called to me from his spot.

Louis caught my attention as I was clearing out my dish. I turned around to face him, “What?”

“My mum’s offered to pay a share of the costs.”

Walking back to the dining table, I faced my papa with an astonished reaction. “Really?”

“Yeah, she was totally alright with it. I just told her we were struggling a little bit in our finances and she said she’s willing to help.”

“That’s great!” I shouted with joy. Finally, I was given a sense of relief.

“Yep,” Louis giggled from my response. He got up from his seat in order to throw out what remained on his plate. “She’s a midwife, after all. She’s always there when you need her.”

**.           .           .**

            A few hours had passed before I became hungry again. Taking full responsibility of my baby-like persona, I asked my daddy if we could treat ourselves to the dessert given to us that very day. Louis accepted the offer happily and served the cake abruptly. Slicing the masterpiece into sections, the cake was revealed to be of the flavor of yellow. The piece I was given turned out to be delicious in addition to the frosting it was smothered in. I took my time indulging in the dessert until the crumbled pastry was all gone. Soon afterwards, I returned to my furry little friend that went by the name of Kitty.

            I was not expecting any troubles that night. Of course, I was slightly drained because of my day at work in spite of the engagement cake. About twenty minutes went by when I was greeted with a shot of pain that was sent through my abdomen. My legs wiggled from the sudden tragedy that stayed below my stomach. There was a funny sensation that reached beneath my diaper. The rumbling sounds inside of me were not the only ones calling to me.

            _You’ve got to go,_ my instincts screamed; _you’ve got to go right now!_

            So I did. As soon as I pushed, however, I was immediately greeted with a warm, fizzy and wet substance that was nowhere near the commonly known stools I’d pass. Immediately, I regretted sitting down. My visage showed just how much disgust I was experiencing on my backside. The nappy, although proven to have a leak-guard, was not exactly smell-proof. Something was not right. I knew right away I had to consult with my daddy.

            “Dad?” I called to Louis.

            “What is it?”

            “My nappy’s … full,” I muttered but not without a discouraged look on my face.

            “Is there anything else wrong?” My papa coaxed. Even he knew that I was not feeling right.

            I told him that I didn’t know. Of course, the only known solution at that moment was to check on what was going on in the basement. Louis led me into the bedroom for a changing and quickly arranged the supplies for the usual procedure. I sat down, lying on my back so my papa could have the full advantage. As a start, Louis reached for the sides of my diaper and pulled at the tabs. He was just about to slip the garment from under me when my lower regions trickled again.

            “Dad, I’ve got to go again. Now.”

            “Now?” Louis raised an eyebrow as he searched for a fresh nappy. “But you jus-”

            “Now!” I shouted urgently.

I had no time to explain and my daddy, thankfully, understood it. Louis flapped the diaper over my privates in a quick fashion. He stuck the tabs on the sides but I could not wait any longer. I pushed. What surprised me is that it did not take that much effort. A bubbly fart muffled under the nappy. Within a second, my daddy’s nose winced from the stench. Mine did too. The slobbery mess returned, leaving my backside in need of another cleaning. Upon pulling the diaper down, Louis grimaced at the sight of the aftermath. He slid the nappy away from me and immediately reached for the box of wipes again.

“Baby, this is not good;” my daddy noted and he was more than just correct.

Catching sight of what I had just exerted, the diaper was soaked with a mushy brown substance. Based on my abdominal pain and stickiness in all the right and wrong places, I knew that something was amiss.

            “This is diarrhea,” my daddy retorted; “It must have been something you ate.”

            “Like what? The cake?”

 _Please not the cake,_ I prayed eternally, _I love cake._

            “No,” my papa corrected; “then I would be sick too.”

            I brought up a very important tactic. “But, if I do have diarrhea, then you’ll have to change me a crap ton of times … no pun intended.”

            Louis laughed before snapping another nappy around me. “Let’s wait a little while, baby boy; just to see what comes up.”

            I gave into his suggestion. Supposedly, it was better to be sure that I was sick before any precautions were to take place. As my papa helped me up, though, he halted to observe my skin.

            “Harry,” Louis raised his hand to my forehead, swiping my fringe away; “How are you feeling?”

            “Kind of worried, to be honest; Why?”

            “You’re hot. I’m getting the thermometer. You could have a fever.”

            Protesting was not permitted. Before I even knew it, Louis was on his way to the bathroom for the medicine and Band-Aid drawer. I was presented with a thermometer and was instructed to keep it under my tongue until the beeper went off. A minute had passed before the results came in. My daddy slipped it out to read my temperature.

            “99.5°F No wonder you’re warm!”

            For every moment after, Louis and I contemplated if this was more than just a bunch of wet stools. Of course, it was better to be safe than unsure but fate had taken its toll on me in a way that was both painful and agonizing. Every time I had to go, I was greeted with a searing cramp that curdled my insides. All would disappear as normal after I released a load. That being said, it left me tired, annoyed, and wet in the bum. An anticipating ten minutes had passed again before I had to go for another round. In the moment, I was sensing a pattern. Finally, when my papa led me down for another changing, he had enough of wasting nappies for an overwhelming reason.

            “This isn’t going to work,” Louis retorted; “You’re suffering, we’re running out of diapers and you still feel warm.”

            What Louis had stated was the cold hard facts despite my low fever that was making me pink in the cheeks. As my behind was wiped with yet another soaked towelette, my daddy granted me with some form of relieving privilege.

            “You’ve got to use the toilet for now on, lad.”

            “Really?” I coaxed as if I couldn’t believe it.

            “Yes; you’re sick and little boys have to get better no matter what.”

Louis suddenly stood up and approached the dresser from behind me. I cocked my head up and, upside down, watched him rummage through a drawer. I could already tell that my daddy was looking for an item of clothing I did wear often. His hand scooped up a pair of boxer briefs that clearly belonged to me. My papa tossed it over to me. I nearly caught it with the curve of my fingers. My fiancé asked me to dress myself so I could be comfortable at my own standards. I obeyed, only having to stand up and foot myself into my underwear before searching for a pair of sweatpants.

**.           .           .**

            _Please … please … just stop it … please …_

            My ass ached at another pass of mossy feces. I did not have to observe the splashes because of my previous trips that were often enough to predict the outcome. Every twenty minutes, my stomach would ache. The cramp would follow up to the urge to go. And, boy, I did go-painfully to say the least. The cramp that twisted my insides would not lighten up until it decided I had enough. Quite frankly, it would not give up on me in the slightest. Sometimes, I would just sit there on the holy throne, rubbing the area surrounding my belly button. I sighed, praying that the bodily torture would soon subside.

My knees soon because weakened. Pins and needles twitched because of the lack of circulation while I sat on the seat. Relaxing terminated itself. It ordered me to pick myself back up only to return a half an hour later. Turning my head to the side, I saw the next step to my tragic, sickly night. The long rolling cylinder that once held a motherload of doable tissues to wipe myself disappeared. All there was left was a round piece of cardboard. I cursed myself as if the clouds opened up above and faith thundered its hate for me. I could have cried and I would have cried; but instead I looked down in a sense of shame. Just as suspected, the clear water below me replaced itself with a black mesh with yellow mucus flowers floating aimlessly like upside down lilies blooming in a porcelain hole pond.

            A knock on the door interrupted my disgusting observations.

            “Honey, what’s wrong?” It was Louis.

            “My stomach,” I returned with a groan.

            There was a pause and then a returning. “Anything else?”

            “Toilet paper,” I called out. With any luck, I could get out of the bathroom for at least some circulation in my weakened knees. Of course, in order to do that, I had to wipe myself first. My daddy came to the rescue after knocking on the door a few moments later.

            “Can I come in?” Louis asked.

            “Please!”

My voice resounded as if the presentation of toilet paper was a symbolic item of joy for the time being. The door swung open. Sure enough, my papa glided inside with a frown on his face. I was not the only one in pain for he hated to see his baby in this condition. The stomach flu was a painful experience, inside and out. Louis perched himself across from me, sitting on the edge of the shower tub. He handed the new roll to me. I went for the relief. Not even thinking, I tore a strip off the large cylinder. Wadding the paper together, I reached below me in order to wipe myself.

            Louis watched me rescue myself from my moistened behind. Unexpectedly, he laughed; “I bet you the wedding won’t be as entertaining as this.”

            “Ha-ah-ow!” My burst of laughter was cut short by another cramp. I stopped wiping for a moment. Another push settled the rest while another splash settled below me but did nothing for the bodily acids. “Don’t make me laugh!” I pleaded, which caused a completely opposite reaction.

            “Sorry,” Louis giggled then straightened up his act.

            I once heard a quote that summed up the definition and qualities of marriage. It is said that you are destined to marry someone if you are willing to wash your partner’s underwear. Watching your fiancé take a watery shit was never mentioned in that statement. My papa footed out of the bathroom so I could have my share of privacy. I finished up my duty as well as watched what remains of my intestines flush away in a horrific hurricane. After washing my hands, I was greeted with my lover in the living room that had nothing but care and concern for me. I trudged in, heading for the couch.

            “Anything I can do for you?” Louis offered aloud.

            “No,” I whimpered; “Right now, I’m going to lie down.”

            He watched me crawl on the cushioned canvas. Needless to say, I was on my stomach for the remainder of my break time from the toilet.


	4. Slow Convalescent

**Harry POV**

            Sleeping with the stomach flu is synonymous with a never-ending merry-go-round. Sooner or later, you find yourself waking up again. I was able to get four hours of sleep after my bedtime. I woke up at 1 A.M. with the same macabre feeling that tortured me repeatedly for the past day. Springing up as fast as I could, I scrambled towards the bathroom. I barely had enough time to yank my pants down. A simple push was exerted. Sure enough, everything came out with a splash. Taking a breather, I noticed that my surroundings were very warm in contrast to the autumn early hours. With more realization, I felt that the warmth was seeping through my skin and hair. I did not need a thermometer to remind myself that I still had a fever.

            Hoisting myself up from the throne, I slugged to the bedroom after washing my hands only to return to the toilet a few hours later. By the time my bowel movement scolded me with their zenith right as my alarm clock blared on, I nearly prayed for a coup de gr _â_ ce. However, I was not possibly allowed to ask for such a conundrum. Besides, I knew right away that Louis would have more than a fit if I even thought about ending my suffering. Footing myself through the house, I found my fiancé preparing a cup of tea and a bottle of water for me. I thanked him for the consideration granted that my body was increasingly becoming dehydrated as the stomach flu raged on.

            Scooping up a spoonful of sugar, my papa took notice of my disheveled hair and tampered bandages; “Rough night?”

            “Yes,” I breathed; “and you know what else?”

            “What?”

            “My stools are dark.”

            Yep, throughout my constant trips to the bathroom and the blinding light from the ceiling fixtures, my vision had cleared up enough for me to notice the discoloring of my remains. Mucus was bad enough. The whole package I flushed behind showed signs of possible danger that was more than just a trait of diarrhea.

Abruptly, Louis took his order. “Harry, you have to stay home.”

My response was quite typical for any common working man. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Well, work can wait;” Louis sat down his cup of tea and footed around the kitchen to meet me.  “You’re sick. You can’t go to work like this. Look at yourself!”

Literally, I couldn’t; but I listened.

“I can’t stand to see you like this. Tired, under the weather, you know? You’ve got to take the day off.”

I warmed up to his suggestion, but my subconscious could have twisted my insides for even thinking about using one of my sick days. I’ve gained perfect attendance all through high school and, leading up to that point, I still felt guilty for getting sick. Then, Louis mentioned one of the most important quotes that ever came out of his mouth during a morning hug.

“Health is more important that salary.”

            My daddy was right. Suffering out in the real world when you’re dying on the inside is not the way to spend your day. And, quite frankly, I was not in the mood to visit the restroom every half an hour. I surrendered to the idea, searching for my phone to get the job done. As the ringer sang in my ear, I turned my head to look at my future husband. He was savoring the last remains of his morning cuppa. A faint smile curled at my lips.

_He cares. He truly cares. In sickness and in health, he cares. He does._

**.           .           .**

            Before Louis left me to defend for myself, he promised me that he would look for something to relieve my symptoms. I thanked him kindly and received a good-bye kiss. My morning was calm with a slight drizzle of rain murmuring against the windows outside. This was considered typical for a European local. Sometimes, I wouldn’t notice it. But today, I kind of liked it. What could have spruced it up more was being dressed in pajamas and a sweater with a cup of tea at hand, but having caffeine would result in another explosion on my backside.

            When I stepped onto the scale, I wasn’t so surprised to see that I had already lost five pounds. Recalling those countless trips to the bathroom, and frequent releases, (not to mention my change in diet), I knew that those were responsible for the cause. After researching a little about the stomach flu, I found that I had to make a few changes to my daily meals. Everything I ate consisted of applesauce, minute rice, and/or ramen soup. This was only for the sake of my digestion and the prevention of cramps that would stab me right inside of me. If I had to compare each painful scenario to a mythical explanation, I’d give it a go, saying that a little man lived between the insides of my hip bone. Every time he got angry, he took advantage of me with his knife. And, when I say knife, I mean machete. It killed me nonetheless.

When I wasn’t stirred by the cramps, my hand would caress my crown, feeling the softness of the stretched out gauze while I examined my temporary disability. I thought about the reason for my injury. I remembered my engagement. Finally, I figured that our headline in the newspapers would be used as a mid-autumn bonfire starter in the near future. Commoner fame does not last forever.

            The water I drank became tasteless by the time afternoon came. I got up from the couch to throw away the bottle. As I tossed it in the garbage, I heard a quiet scurry. Although the sound was faint, I kept still and tried to diagnose what could have been the rain, the wind, or something other than nothing. A moment later, I heard it again. The pitter-patter of tiny feet drummed against the tile floors of the kitchen. I did not see it at first. Turning my head towards the garage door, I could have sworn I saw a figure that was only a couple inches in length. At that point, I could have brushed it off or took note of it. The ringtone from my phone interrupted my final decision.

            “Hello?” I answered.

            “Hey, baby cakes. How are you feeling?”

            “Still not very well.”

            Louis awed, “I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could be there for you. I’ll pick something up for you before I come home, I promise.”

            “Thanks,” I said and then decided to bring up the irregular circumstance; “Daddy, I think we have a mouse in the house.”

            “What?” he scoffed; “How can that be?”

            “I don’t know. I think I just saw it running across the kitchen.”

            “What color was it?”

            “I don’t know. It was fast.”

            I heard a sigh. “I guess I can look for mouse traps too while I’m out. Is there anything else you need today?”

            “A spell to bid me from all illnesses of the world would be nice.”

            At least I made Louis laugh. He told me that he would do what he could. He wished me good luck for the rest of the day, and instructed me to take it slow. I did, but not without worrying about our possible furry fella that could be sharing the house with us until he or she was taken care of. While I made another batch of rice, I contemplated going to see the doctor. I welcomed the idea, but instinct told me that my sickness would not last forever. Besides, the websites I had found said that I should not have to worry unless it lasted for more than a week. This was just the second day. Still, I felt either dead or dying.

**.           .           .**

            A few hours later, Louis greeted me at the door with a plastic bag in hand. The local drug store carried a medication off the counter that was perfect for my (hopefully) temporary need. The pill was a gigantic white tablet that looked like a miniature cinder block encased in singular methods that could flake off at anyone’s disposal. I followed the instructions, swallowing one with water, and nearly gagging it up because of the size of it. For future reference, I took note that I should always use a knife to split the darn thing if it was needed.

            Dinner was served at a slightly faster pace than usual. Louis took the liberty to join my tasteless suffering and serve rice. He presented me with a typical lecture. My daddy’s day consisted of loud music, rude customers, and the small of French friends. Similar to his day at work, y time off was just as painful. I even made a mental note to clean the toilet as soon as my health restored. As a matter of fact, I reminded myself that my insiders were not the only thing out of order.

            In comparison to Louis, my hair was oily and disheveled too – only without the small of burgers. Our decision to wash up was obvious. How we would do it was just another question to answer. My papa had permitted me to take a shower as needed, but I did not warm up to his suggestion. Being home alone was a fine pastime; though I felt that the only thing I truly needed at the time was a few long moments with Louis. I felt lucky to have him agree with me. Both of us took the environmental route and wash up together. I figured it would help us save water as well as help the soap reach the dark areas I couldn’t normally find by myself.

            Noticing how tired my daddy had become from a long day at work, it was the least I could do to free him from the trouble of undressing himself. Louis nearly giggled as my fingers snagged along the hem of his work shirt. I lifted the garment up and over my papa’s head. His hair shuffled along his forehead in a messy fringe. I tossed his clothes to the side. I would have taken the liberty to unbutton his trousers as well, but my cool hands prevented the intention. After all, it’s not exactly good manners if you make your partner go “AHH!” when you touch their stomach.

            The first few minutes in the tub consisted of the usual warming up and helping share of the soap. My backside, apparently, looked worse than I had expected. Of course, it wasn’t very surprising considering the fact that I had spent my day off on the toilet for the majority of the time, but I digress. While I bent over, Louis washed the area delicately even though I could still feel the dim remains of the harsh acids I had passed hours ago. My cheeks were spread wide and rinsed temporarily. Then, I thought of a brilliant idea to help heal the awkwardness.

“Hey, dad?”

“Yes?”

“What will our last names be after the wedding?”

            A pause filled the room for a moment until Louis answered unconfidently. “I don’t know;” he scooped up another cup of water. “Harry Styles, Louis Styles. Louis Tomlinson, Harry Tomlinson. Looks like we’ve got a lot to choose from.”

The water he handled poured over me, washing away the soap down my lower back and thighs. While the suds returned to the bubbly bath beneath me, I came up with a beautiful suggestion. Setting myself back down in the tub, I continued the subject.

“I know this sounds crazy, but why not Stylinson?”

“What?”

“Well, it’s our names mixed together. Styles, Tomlinson, Stylinson. I think it sounds cute!”

A chuckle escaped my daddy’s mouth. I supposed he welcomed the idea. That being said, details on the wedding were yet to be accomplished. Louis and I were in the tub until the both of us were officially clean. We dried ourselves off with a set of towels and left the question to be answered at another time.


	5. Mickey Pursuit

**Harry POV**

            A common symptom of recovering from the stomach flu includes having to go through the day on an empty stomach. In my case, I woke up hungry in the middle of the night. I was not surprised when my body woke itself up. According to instinct, I clamped my eyes shut, hoping and praying that I had a few more hours of sleep to spare before I was destined to return to the fresh sweat and smells of working at the bakery. It was either that, or just wishing my bowels would not jerk me up again. A few seconds had passed until I decided I must find out for sure what time it was. Raising my eyelids, I found the alarm clock resting on the night stand.

              _12:47 AM. Sweet momma, I have been saved._

Then an internal rumbling was heard and felt. My stomach, much emptied from the work done in the basement, was crying for me. Bubbliness echoed around those regions along with a vibration. My head brushed against the pillow.

_I’m hungry; grand._

If that rumbling was going to go away, I had to take care of it myself. So, inching myself out of bed, I hoped not to wake my partner up. The soft plushness of my beloved kitten had cradled into the coiling of my arms while I was sleeping. Delicately, I placed Kitty down before my pillow to begin my mission. I slowly glanced behind me to dimly witness an adorable figure curled up beneath the blankets and sheets. Although the room was dark, faintly see his delicate figure. I heard him exhale. A small smile had formed on my lips, but it quickly vanished as I tried to find a way to sneak to the kitchen and back.

It was considered a blessing that my papa permitted me to have a night with my boxers. Granted my trips to the bathroom were quite frequent, the liberation gave me a sense of freedom and an advantage. Finally, I could walk around without a ruffling noise trailing behind me. As I footed away from the bed, I tried to avoid the creeks of the floor boards. The doorknob was easy to turn. The door, however, creaked halfway through. I found it to be only a matter of accomplishment that I slipped my stature through the slit in the door. I crept away unseen, thankfully, like a fox. Continuing on, I breathed a sigh of pride.

I roamed through the solemn hallway that had bid away from the daily light to be filled with the darkened night. The rustic carpet brushed against the base of my bare feet. The floor below me converted into the bright tile floors, signifying that I had reached my destination. Eventually, I was able to reach the kitchen by the guidance of the plug-in light bulbs and the oven’s accent lighting. I footed towards the light switch on the wall. Flicking it up, I headed for the fridge in hopes of finding a midnight drink.

            Appropriately, my fingers grasped around the handle of the gallon of milk. I carried the jug to the counter as I tiredly reached for a clean glass. The room fell silent as I poured the drink to a desirable height and raised it up to my lips. I blinked and swallowed. Standing quietly in between the counter corners gave me a chance to take in the silent night. Of course, those who are afraid of the dark would most likely not appeal to the particular moment I was relishing. That would matter much in comparison to the ruckus I was about to encounter.

            The pitter pattering of tiny feet was heard. My breathing halted to identify the quiet commotion. A small distance away, I could faintly spot out the shadow of a rodent no more than three inches. Now, I could not point out its coloring at first, but the little guy was dressed in gray and white fur and replenished with a pink tail. It was at that point I discovered the little night creature roaming around the residence was, indeed, a mouse.

My eyes bugged out, unsure of what to do. I was not an experienced hunter, but I was sure that one would not prance right at the sight of their prey. Tersely, my hands reached for the best thing closest to me in order to capture the sneaky little varmint. I silently thanked the holiday season and for inspiring Louis and I to bake cookies a few days before this investigation commenced. As slowly as possible, I handled the reusable food bin so I could entrap the mouse swiftly. My plan was to slam the bin down, around the mouse, so the little rascal could not escape without my knowing.

That was not what happened.

            I stepped forward. The mouse began to scurry away, realizing that he was discovered by the human of the house. From that moment on, it was mouse versus man; and I did not take a liking to the hunt.

“Dauh!” I breathed.

Regarding the rules of age play, I found multiple ways to censor my cursing. Rationally, avoid punishments became one of the many skills I had come to acquire. All I had to do was hope that my daddy did not and would not realize the intentional wording. The mouse quickly found its way out of the rays of the kitchen lighting. My eyes did their best to adjust to the darkness as I continued my search. I rushed down the trail. It seemed as if the mouse had been around for quite some time considering the fact that it knew how to get to the hallway in a quick and orderly fashion.

“Get back here, you little-” I stopped myself again. After all, I left the door to the bedroom creaked open.

It wasn’t until the mouse reached the end of the hallway when I got to fool the unwanted guess. The mouse stopped, unsure where to go or what to do. It trailed back and I made the fury guy jerk a turn that lead to the bathroom. Once it pranced past the door, I yanked it shut. Finally, I had successfully trapped the rodent. I felt proud of myself; not to mention tired from the sudden exercise.

My back pressed against the door. Letting out a huff of breath, I familiarized myself with the situation. At that point, I was all alone with only an inch-worth of painted wood between myself and the whiskered rodent. The idea condemned me in a sort of straight-forward way. I simply could not handle the mouse by myself.

So I called out; “Daddy?” No answer.

            “Dad?” I spoke again. Still, there was no answer.

            “Papa? Papa …”

            I looked down to see the small food bin that was intended for the failed job; or rather, the job that could have failed-I was not out of the woods yet. I gathered up the bin and began to drum the object. Any sort of noise could have worked. Getting the attention of a certain heavy sleeper was the challenge.

            Without thinking, I hollered and clapped, “Louis! Please come help me!”

            A pause had passed when I heard the entrance to the bedroom creek open. A weary persona that I would identify as my fiancé used his fingers to ruffle his hair. He staggered out of the doorframe. He did not look angry, thankfully, but a tired annoyance replaced his stature. He footed forward, rubbing and squinting his eyelids.

            Louis yawned; “what’s going on?’

            “The mouse is in there,” I pointed to the bathroom.

            Louis was slow in answering; “whatever it is, can’t we wait until morning?”

            I scoffed. Obviously, my daddy was not paying attention. His consciousness did not resort to his late night awakening just yet. I wanted to explain to him that this was a serious situation. I opened my mouth to speak. Louis suddenly interrupted my thought after he glanced at what I was holding.

            “What are you doing with Tupperware?”

            I spoke honestly, “I was trying to catch the mouse with it.”

            “Harry,” Louis grimaced; “we store food in these things.” He snatched the box from my hands in exhaustion, and then stated; “you stay here. I’ll go get something else.”

Realizing this, I became slightly shameful and embarrassed. With a slug in his step, Louis turned around to head for the bedroom again. I assumed at first he was returning to his bed like a hermit would with his cave or hut. Instead, I heard a fumbling occur down the hall. A few moments later, Louis returned with an empty shoe box at hand. I could have face palmed myself right then and there from all of the mortification I experienced that night.

            Louis turned on the hallway light. Even though the bold rays pondered my pupils, it would benefit us in the long run. I stood up, rubbing my eyelids, as my papa expressed his plan.

            “Open the door slowly. I’ll do what I can to catch it.”

            At first, I thought I should be the one to entrap the small fellow; but I knew my daddy was not fond of arguing. Besides, Louis, having more athletic experience than I, would have the hand-eye coordination worthy for the cause. I digressed the urge to protest and rested my hand on the door knob. I stood out of the way while Louis squatted down on his knees.

            _This is it._

Louis crawled into the bathroom soon after I opened the door. His tiny hands delicately touched the tile flooring, making sure that he was just as quiet as his competitor. Granted the mouse was only a few inches tall, it could not have gone far from us. At first glance, we did not spot the target until Louis headed for the toilet. He jammed his box into the corner with a sudden jolt then scoffed. I saw the mouse scurry around him. It was heading straight for me. I nearly screamed like a little lassie. Obviously the use of mouse traps was a necessity that we never came around to.

            The mouse worked around my feet. Louis shouted my name. He hurried past me and down the hall after the little varmint. I watched my daddy ponder against the ground. Presuming, he was so close yet so far from the mouse.

            I called after him, “Don’t kill it! Don’t kill it!”

            “I’m not! AH!”

A coughing huff was heard down the hall. I started to follow my fiancé down the hall. Then, finally, a bellow was exerted from the hunter himself.

“I’ve got it!” Louis shouted.

“Finally,” I breathed, stepping towards my papa who had succeeded around the enterance to the kitchen.

He handed the shoe box to me, completely exhausted. From the first touch, I could tell that the mouse was indeed inside. The weight of the object shifted back and forth. Sadly, however, the captive could not have any chance of escape. I looked down at the box. A light bulb sparked in my head, making me smirk.

I giggled, “We should give it a name.”

“What?”

“How about Mickey?”

“No!” Louis’ voice rose up; “No! We’ve got to get rid of it now!” Immediately, I felt his hands direct me in a rotation. He scooted me down the hall by the power of a push. “Out the front door; right now; go.”

“Aww, come on;” I coaxed, but the arched eyebrows prevented me to continue further. “OK then;” I muttered, making it to the entrance of the front door.

I unbolted the lock and kneeled down. The late autumn coolness bombarded me after opening up the screen door. Handling the shoe box, I set the mouse free, watching the little rascal scurry off until my vision blurred to black. He or she had gone away. I ended my momentary farewell to retreat back into the house and close the door behind me. Relocking the knob, I continued the conversation with my daddy.

            “I will admit he looked like a Mickey-or maybe a Minnie!”

“Harry,” I glanced back to see a firm, yet exhausted, expression on my papa’s visage. “It’s nearly 1 in the morning. Let’s get back to bed.”

“Alright,” I said. Then I followed him.


	6. Toil and Trouble

**Louis POV**

            It had taken a while before I realized how my job’s atmosphere was quite bipolar. In the summer, the heat and spirit of the games caused me to break multiple sweats above my eyebrows. When autumn subsided and winter was on the horizon, the fryers and grillers kept me warm under the ongoing rock and pop symphonies. Along with trying my very best to not subdue myself beneath the cold, I was also faced with a rather serious predicament.

Although migraines from the concert shows were typical, I had an uprising concern about my hearing levels. Certainly, when I first applied for this position, I was not completely aware of the side effects. By the time the musicians’ die-hard fans exited the arena, I would sulk up my cleanup assignments on Excedrin and water. Sometimes, it felt like that was the only thing keeping me going through the ringing afternoon.

            My friend Stan handled the hamburger buns tiredly. I was rummaging through the other supplies to give the daily report if more was needed. On this particular day, Stan was in a hurry to get home. I never asked why, but he waved good-bye to me before dashing out of the food wagon. I sighed. Time alone was just my wish. I turned back to finish sorting the collections of plastic cups via sizes and style. My eyelids, heavy with drowsiness and residue from a day on the job, blinked slowly. Shaking my head, I hoped to clear up at least some percentage of my head.

            It was at that point of my career regiment when I’d convince myself that it all would be done soon. After I’d punch out, I’d get into my car; drive around and about until I found my desired destination: home. I’d be home soon. I’d kick off my shoes, have the remote in my hand, and Harry would be there.

            _Harry will be there; with me; and his kitten. I’ll be home soon. I will be home soon._

            “Excuse me?” An interminable, monotonous voice interrupted my sense of dreaming. It was a customer at the far window.

            I approached the cashier side of the stand awkwardly. “Sorry, sir; we’re closed.”

            “Oh,” the man said, presenting himself with a handsome visage and beauty-like complexion.

            Now I was not fully aware of how my brain connected the dots in the middle of such an exhausting moment; though I could have sworn I saw the man’s face before. Black hair; dark eyes; tattoos here and there.

            “Well, then I’m sorry to interrupt you,” the man started to shuffle away.

            “Wait!” I called to him, “aren’t you …?”

            The persona I was addressing turned back to me. Since my body had taken the moment to awaken itself, I had no quarrels to asking for any clarification.

            “… Zayn Malik?”

            “Ehh-” he glanced around. It was no wonder the banners and posters gave out a hint; “Appears so.”

            I almost laughed – not at the fact I did not recognize him, but rather the fact that he was there as a person I could speak with. The reason for the angelic remedies that had echoed through the halls while Stan and I were on duty was the same man who returned to the food counter. My insides sort of swirled at the fact the venue’s current main attraction was right in front of me.

            “You brought in a massive crowd,” I stated.

            “Yeah, I’ve noticed” Zayn replied; “This is such a nice place only I was hoping to get a drink after everyone left.”

            “Well, you’re in luck!” I smiled at the man.

            The singer, in all of his glory and soul, took a break from his vocal authenticities to find something to slurp on. It was not a common factor to meet any of the performers at the stadium, let alone the players. They’d always be off in the locker room or away on a tour bus for the next gig. So, because not all of the appliances had been shut down just yet, I took the moment to return to my fast food cook identity to help a thirsty man out.

            “My name’s Louis Tomlinson, what can I get for you?”

**.           .           .**

            I had driven along my usual route. I was a few minutes from home, and I still could not contain myself from what happened at work that day. As I switched my blinker on to turn onto my street, I wondered to myself if Harry had ever heard of Zayn Malik. I shrugged. I barely paid attention to the venue’s scheduled attractions, let alone certain genres of music. Whether Harry did was another question.

“Harry, I’m home!” I called out to my fiancé as I entered through the garage door.

            I could not hear very clearly at first, but my ears had somehow connected the quiet reply into the phrase, “Hi dad.”

            After fumbling with my coat and setting my car keys down on the kitchen table, I made my way towards the sound. Eventually, if found my lover in the living room, tapping his foot with his hand resting on his chin. My immediate thought was that he was stressed. Abruptly, I sat by his side on the couch and wrapped my arm around him.

            “Is something wrong?” I asked him, giving the lad a gentle rub on his muscle.

            He said nothing, but hesitantly nodded.

“Than what is it?”

Harry was making it obvious. Because he was not completely confident to respond, I wondered if it was the right time to interrogate him. Either way, I continued to comfort him.

Harry mustered, “Daddy, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course, darling; we’ve been over this before.”

That wasn’t the first time he acted in that manner. From what I could recall, the last time he was this jumpy was when he had outdone himself without me. Then, he was twitching with guilt and proclamation on whether to confess to me or not. Now, he was doing just the same.

“You know you can always tell me anyth-”

**Harry POV**

“I lost the ring.”

I figured if I was going to announce my big mistake, I would do so quickly and honestly. It was not my exact intention to interrupt Louis. My only predicament was to get on with the matter before I was suspected of stalling my confession. I removed my shaky fingers from my cheek to my thigh. Honesty overcame the situation on my part, but I could not say the same.

“What?!” Louis stopped rubbing my side.

            My heart could have stopped had it not been for the sake of repeating.

“I … lost my engagement ring.”The entire phase trembled off out of my mouth.

“Have you looked for it?!” Louis returned his comforting hand to his side of the couch.

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“Where did you go?”

“Living room, kitchen, bathroom, everywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I whimpered. Guilt struck me in the most uncomfortable way, especially after Louis addressed his financial concern.

“You know how much that little thing cost me?” Somehow, the subject of money was unavoidable. I knew it was coming the minute I confessed.

“N-no,” I replied shyly.

“More than four months’ salary, Harry.”

_Fuck me-_

“Four month salaries only to have it go missing.”

_\--up the butt, for the hell of it._

My glance fell down. The way I could describe my guilt was indescribable. My fingers were intertwining with one another as I thought about his career as an unimpressive fry cook. To have all of his net worth “go to waste” was not what made my stomach churn and my heart sink. It was very awkward for me to realize that there was more to the problem than what was expected.

“I haven’t given you a spanking in a long time.”

My sight sprouted up so I could look at Louis directly.

“I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

I shook my head; “No, daddy; Please.”

As I was fully aware from my previous chastisements, Louis put the king in spanking. Surely, I thought as I was scavenging around the house for that one specific symbol of our love, I thought that Louis would have had an understanding nature. I was greeted wrongly as Louis gave me a stern look across his face.

“Harry,” he preached.

“Don’t,” I pleaded; “Just listen--you can’t.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can. Come on now,” Louis’s fingers were wrapping around my forearm so I was forced to stand up.

Next, my papa was attempting to have my torso bend forward so I could reserve the spot above his lap. I fought back, only to receive a forceful yank which made my nose and chin brush up against the rug on the floor. The palms of my hands prevented my face from coming in full contact with the floor entirely. Instinct overridden me with the very prediction Louis was about to exert.

“You’re getting this spanking, mate; for being irresponsible and losing what could be the most precious valuable thing in this house!” His hand rose up and came down with a dominating smack over my work jeans.

            I was not wearing a nappy just yet, so I breathed out a wincing grunt. My outer garments muffled the pain; however my emotions for that situation were not particularly stable. It was ridiculous. Nowhere on the list of rules did I agree to accept a punishment that was the result of a simple, human mistake. It was only the ones that I was worthy of in which I deserved. _I can explain,_ I would’ve said if I could. _I’ll find it, I promise;_ I would’ve confirmed if I knew if I could somehow find what had disappeared.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Another series were sprinkled on my bum.

            I did not respond at first, seeing as I was too frustrated to even speak. That being said, as Louis managed to slide my jeans down past my thighs, I thought it was a decent time to express my thoughts.

“A sore bum isn’t going to find my ring,” I muttered. The phrase did not come out as brave as I wanted it to be heard as.

“Oh, yeah?” SPANK “Maybe not, but it sure will remind you to take care of your belongings.” _SPANK_ “Especially ones that matter even to me!” _SPANK SPANK SPANK_

“N-no!” I protested.

Now that my underwear was the only thing protecting my behind, I could not stand the punishment any further. I made it so my body returned from its horizontal position so I could slide off Louis’ knees. I paid no regards to the rules of our age play. I turned around to see a confused expression and a lowering hand.

            “I can’t do this,” my fingers rubbed at my eyelids. Shaking my head, I announced, “I can’t do this, daddy. I can’t.”

My torso shifted forward so that my forehead was resting against my daddy’s chest. I soon felt rubbing on my back from what were once the hands Louis used for punishing me. I breathed out a cough, trying to subdue my emotional spell. Nothing was heard for a moment or two. It was a strange conundrum. Never would I imagine that Louis would allow a break in the tension. Louis waited for my breathing to relax before he made a proposition.

“Hey, how about this,” my daddy had me look up with his fingers prepping my chin up. “Ten more over your pants, OK?”

            I sniveled. It was not over yet, but I had somehow saved myself from a lasting form of discipline. I nodded into subtle agreement. My papa’s fingers brushed over my hair.

He assured me as I returned to my over-the-knee position; “it won’t be long now.”

After draping over my daddy’s lap. Louis saved me the trouble of the wait. He administered the first half of the series as he proclaimed in a quick and orderly fashion. It caught me by surprise

            “Harry,” he let me breathe; “after this, we are going to get up. You are going to pull yourself together, and we are going to look for that ring. Got it?”

            “OK.” _SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK_ “Ouch!”

**.           .           .**

You know, the laws of nature work much easier on paper. Animals protect their offspring; Guards protect their subjects; and I can’t even protect a silver band with a diamond encrust. So why was I so surprised when we could not find my engagement ring after turning the entire house upside-down? Honestly, the answer was plain and unsatisfying. I claimed to be irresponsible. For the most part, it was true. It was when Louis led me to the edge of the bed when I questioned if I was truly in need of another session.

“But I don’t want a bedtime spanking!”

            “Come on, Harry;” Louis looked up to me as he sat on the bed. “We’ve been through this. Besides, you might sleep better with a nice red bottom.”

            “It’ll hurt, though;” I shrugged. Thinking I could somehow escape my pending doom, I did my best to address my side of the story. “I’ve looked everywhere for that ring, papa. It won’t just pop up out of nowhere.”

            “Now let’s calm down,” Louis’ elbows rested on his knees. He was leaning towards me as I stood before him. “I’d like to warm up those little cheeks of yours. It should be a cold winter night for the both of us.”

            “I don’t care.” I crossed my arms. “This is unfair. You know we don’t have to do this.”

            “Young man,” my daddy thundered; “what’s one of your most important rules?”

            I paused. For whatever the reason, I knew exactly which one he was talking about. “… Accept the punishments I’m worthy of.”

            “Exactly, and are you worthy of this upcoming punishment?”

I did not want to answer him. Everything felt wrong in the world. From losing the engagement ring to receiving yet another spanking, the day was equivalent to downhill train wreck. Frowning, I did not know how to answer him.

            “Words, Harry;” Louis demanded.

            Deciding to favor his side in hopes of some form of remorse, I answered; “I suppose.”

            “That’s right, you do.”

“Are you doing this because you’re angry with me?” I had to ask him. I wanted to be sure of reasoning.

“No, of course not, Harry. This is only for the purpose of teaching you about responsibility. When you told me you lost the ring, I was devastated. Punishment was in order for the sake that this won’t happen again. When we fin- Well, _if_ we find it …”

Louis fell silent for a moment. What he wanted to explain was not quite as understandable as I would have liked it to be. He opened his mouth to continue.

“Anyway, I’d like to make it quite clear that I’ve forgiven you. I just think that another minute over my knee will settle the score. I want you to fully learn your lesson, so if we can get started now-”

Without any further discussion, Louis motioned over to me. He started to yank at my sweatpants. With that, he took possession of my nappy as well.

“Let me bare your bottom,” he had me foot over to his side.

            “Dad,” I muttered.

            “Nope, I’m not having it. Something tells me you are going to sleep very well tonight.”

            Louis helped me over. Once bended and in the right position, I was faced with the floor once again. I predicted that this bedtime spanking would not be long one. Granted that Louis started slow, I did my best to handle the naked contact between his palm and my bum. I winced from the sudden shots of irritation that greeted each cheek at every slap.

            In order to avoid a rug rash to the face, I rotated my head over to the side. My unimpressive view now consisted of nothing but a darkened abyss. However, the longer I stared into the horizon along with the jolting pain on my backside, my eyes managed to adjust to the setting. Once my sight had a clearer sight under the bed, I could have sworn I saw something that was not supposed to be there. Better yet, it was just the thing we were looking for. The silhouette of a little brown box.

            “Daddy! Wait!” I shouted.

            “Hold still.”

            “No! Wait! I think I found it!”

            Louis stopped striking me and gave me the chance to shuffle off his lap. I squatted in front of the bed, ignoring my pants which made the task slightly more difficult. Reaching my arm out, I hoped to grab hold of the pride and joy that had gone missing for most of the day. I felt the box beneath the edge of my fingertips. Scooping it closer to me, I managed to grasp the box before sending it into view. Louis joined me on the floor, observing the brown case that held the symbol to our engagement.

            Flicking open the box, I couldn’t help but curl the end of my lips. Louis joined in and we started to laugh. I was not sure if it was because of a sudden miracle or a miraculous coincidence. At the end of the day, the fact that the only place we hadn’t searched through had just what we were hunting for was simply hilarious.

With a grin, Louis’ helped me up from the floor; “Punishment revoked.”

My daddy was right. His baby boy slept very well that night. The ring on the nightstand justified it.


	7. Holly Jolly Flashback

**Louis POV**

“Yes, yes, I love you too!”

            Harry and I were standing in the front entrance of our house. After escorting the family out of the house, we shouted out our final holiday farewells.

            “Merry Christmas!” Harry called out.

            “See ya’ next year!”

            The last of the family responded with their good-byes in unison before collecting themselves in their cars and then driving off into the evening. Harry and I watched them drive away safety before shutting the front door and locking it.

            “Phew,” I whisked my forehead with my hand; “Finally.”

            “I thought they’d never shut up.”

            “I know, right?”

            There is nothing like the holiday seasons to tire you out and annoy you even more in addition to having the family over. I, myself, have had my ups and downs with mine and Harry’s side of the family. That being said, when you are getting married, celebrating a birthday, and hosting a Christmas party all at the same time, you are the talk of the evening. Now that Harry and I were alone, it was the perfect time to quit any further hesitations.

            “Now that they’re gone,” I stated whilst heading towards Harry’s lips for a kiss.

            He accepted the matter without any form of protesting; even letting my hands trail up and behind his neck. Harry, in addition to the embrace, stepped back so that we were closer to the wall. My baby, too, fell for the attraction, but his commitment suddenly faded as his head turned away from another kiss.

            “That reminds me …” Harry muttered to himself.

            “What?” I asked, watching him.

            Harry’s face began to cringe and curl. His eyes squinted slightly as he grunted. I stepped back seeing as his torso and knees were bending forward slightly. I became worried.

            “What?” I repeated.

            A few seconds later, Harry replied; “I-uh … I made a little poo-poo, daddy.”

            I couldn’t help but laugh. For a moment there, I had forgotten of Harry’s mistake of wearing the nappy all throughout the Christmas party. As I recalled, he resisted my suggestion to change him during the holiday for fear of being discovered by our parents and/or siblings. I agreed with his tactic and let him roam throughout the afternoon and night with it on.

            “Oh, well in that case, come along, baby.” I gathered Harry’s hand in mine before leading the both of us to the bedroom for a changing. As we walked down the hall, I began the typical after-party conversation.

            “I could not believe my mum. Could you?” I turned back to see if Harry remembered the hundreds of thousands of questions my mother had prepared for us that night.

            “No, and mine; did you get a hold of my mum?”

            “Oh, they were going to have a fit, weren’t they?”

**.           .           .**

            “Have you found a setting yet?” My mother was sitting at the dining table swirling her cup of iced water looking up at me. I had lost count of the amount of questions I had answered her with.

            “No,” I replied, trying to hold back my frustration; “We haven’t yet.”

            “Oh, well that’s a shame. I’d figured you’d have everything planned by now.”

            I tried to explain the best I could. After all, planning a wedding is never easy. “Mum, it’s been a few months since our engagement.”

            “Oh, speaking of that, Harry, how is your head? Harry?!” My mum turned her attention away in order to find my fiancé.

            After hearing the shout, Harry turned around from his conversation with his big sister Gemma before calling back; “Fine, thank you!”

            She nodded her head, then continued; “How about the reception party? Will there be dancing? Will there be food?”

            “Mum,” I tried, but the questions kept pilling on.

            “Chicken seems a bit too typical for a wedding. Have you considered pork? How about lamb?”

            “Mum,”

            “You’re right; we should set up a budget. All meat is expensive these days.”

            “Mum,”

“And have you even hired a caterer yet? I hear there’s a marvelous company in Yorkshire that will do the job right.”

            “Mum!” I stopped her; “I’ve told you, we’ve got nothing planned yet.”

            The mother retorted in her seat as my glare showed my tedious demonstration. A few seconds of silence resounded. Then, my mum returned.

“Can you at least tell me what your color schemes for the wedding are? I believe blue would be perfect.”

            “No,” Harry’s mother suddenly appeared beside me with a plate full of appetizers we had prepared that morning; “Make it red. It’ll be more extravagant.”

            “Don’t be silly.” My mum waved her hand at the opposing thought; “Blue would work great for the wedding.”

            “Red symbolizes love.” Harry’s mum stated proudly; “It’s more passionate, you know?”

            “Oh, what do you know about color schemes.”

            “Whoa, ladies;” Harry popped in to save the day.

            “Have you tried our stuffed mushrooms yet, mum? They do taste delicious!”

**.           .           .**

            “You really saved it, big time.” I let go of Harry’s hand so I could search for all the intended objects for the diaper changing process.

            Because our families coming over for Christmas, Harry and I resorted to hiding all of the evidence of age play we had to offer. Everything, from nappies to baby powder, was presumably stuffed in the back of the closet or deeper in the drawers for safekeeping. I gathered up the materials needed for the job, and then proceeded to mock my future husband and his life-saving agility.

“Oh! Try the stuffed mushrooms! They’re delicious!”

            “Oh, stop it.,” Harry lowered himself to the floor; “What else could I do?”

            I settled the objects down beside Harry before lowering myself down to him, and replied; “Well, you could have helped put everything away.”

            “I did help,” Harry stated, lifting up his head to look at me.

            “Sure, with the toys and the diapers; but what about the bottles? Hmm?”

**.           .           .**

            “Louis?” My mother called to me from the kitchen.

            “Yes?” I strode to her quickly after realizing just what she was curious about.

            “What’s the meaning of all these baby bottles?”

            _Crap._ My mind scrambled for some form of explanation. I had suddenly remembered the excuse I had used with Stan. It was a perfect plan of escape. That is, if I could pull it off.

            “Babysitting,” I exclaimed; “Harry and I babysit the neighbor’s kids from time to time.”

            “Why, how nice of you!” My mother stated, and then shut the cupboard; “Tell me, how old are they?”

            “Emm,” I stuttered, and then noticed how intrigued my mother was with my responses. “Emelia,” I suddenly vouched, “Emelia is seven months old, an- and Andrew is eight. Yeah, they’re great kids.”

            “Oh, well hopefully I’ll meet them one day.”

            _Hopefully you won’t_.

“Were you looking for a glass?” I did my best to distract the attention from Harry’s not-so-cleverly-hidden bottles.

“Oh, yes; I was hoping to get some water.”

I found a pack of plastic cups. Handing one to my mother, I explained; “Very well then; the ice is in the fridge.”

**.           .           .**

            “Emilia and Andrew?” Harry looked up to me in a ridiculous I-cannot-believe-what-you’ve-done expression; “You couldn’t do better than that?”

            I fidgeted with the soiled diaper; “What could I do? Change the subject like you did with my sisters?”

            “Hey,” Harry lifted his lower body up so I could wipe his bottom; “I thought it was the perfect plan!”

**.           .           .**

My sister and I were having a temporary bicker at each other around the first hour of the party.

“I’m telling you, Charlotte, I met Zayn Malik!”

“Uh-huh,” she sassed, “and I met Amelia Earhart.”

            At that moment, I found Harry scuttling over the counter of food, passing behind Charlotte along the way.

“What is that rustling noise, I hear?” She glanced around, trying to diagnose the matter via sight.

Harry froze, dashing his sight over to me. The look he expressed validated a simple, yet frantic explanation. Harry had decided to keep his nappy on from that morning. Although I had suggested that I’d change him before the family gathering had begun, he was protestant. So I let him be for a while, forgetting as soon as our relatives stepped through the door. Now, it was up to Harry to save himself.

He shrugged, trying his best attempt at acting. “I don’t know. Could be anything in this house; Just last fall, we found a mouse in the kitchen.”

“Mice?” Charlotte’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, sneaky little feller he was,” I walked to Harry’s side as I replied.

“Right,” Harry returned; “Mickey-Minnie could have come from anywhere.”

I refrained, “I said we weren’t going to name it.”

“No, you said we were going to bed. I remember that night.”

“Oh, whatever.”

“Harry! Louis!” A voice coming from the kitchen was heard. Sure enough, it was Harry’s mother.

“What?” Harry shouted back to his mum.

“Should we pass out the cards now or later?”

“Wait a little while, mum.”

**.           .           .**

            “Speaking of presents,” Harry settled his legs around me as I strapped him into a new nappy; “I love that onesie you gave me today.”

            “I’m glad you like it,” I smiled as I finished taping the last of the tabs on Harry’s waist; “Would you like to wear it, little boy?”

            “Yes, please.”

            Immediately, I got up in search for my baby boy’s Christmas present. In the back of the bedroom closet, I had the onesie hanging behind my jumpers and jeans. Dressed in a comfortable purple fabric, the onesie consisted of a zipper enclosure as well as a hilarious feature. In the back of the clothing, around the bottom region, there was a large rectangular flap that buttoned closed to cover up the wearer’s bum. Harry giggled at the sight of it at first, but then found it practical in some form or other.

            Harry stood up so I could assist with the job. He stepped inside, letting me direct the fabric in the right directions. His arms slid inside perfectly. I edged the zipper upwards, having Harry enjoy the comfort that polyester had to offer. Just for the fun of it, I footed around Harry. My fingers unclasped the buttons quickly as Harry tried to discover what I was accomplishing.

            “What are you doing, dad?” He questioned.

            After the buttons were taken care of, I let the flap fall, exposing Harry’s padded bum in the process.

            “Oh, nothing,” I said; “Just this,” I used my hand to pat his bottom through the hole of the onesie.

            His nappy crinkled to the touch and I grinned. I could see Harry nodding, encouraging himself to turn around to meet me again. I did not let him do so, however, without me buttoning up the hole again.

            “I love you, daddy;” Harry’s arms raised up, ready for a hug.

            “I love you too, little boy,” I returned the embrace.

            Stepping back, Harry approached the bed. Gathering up his beloved Kitty, Harry stated a wish.

            “Time for bed.”

            “Not just yet,” I took his free hand, standing him up once morel “There’s still work to be done. Clean-up, of course.”

            “Oh,” Harry shrugged. Sometimes, realizing there was more to the end of a holiday was the worst part.

            “Merry Christmas,” I urged him to follow me back to the kitchen for some dishwashing and trash picking.

            “Merry Christmas,” he replied, tiredly yet calmly.


	8. The Fatherly Load

**Harry POV**

            “Yes … Late November, that’s correct … Well, to be honest, we have not set a specific date yet.”

I was sitting in my pajamas on a fine Saturday morning when I had committed myself to a day of wedding planning. Based on our budget and deep discussion, Louis and I had agreed to a late autumn wedding that would witness the early aspects of winter. Time would not be a specific problem until later on, I reckoned, considering the fact that we had most of the year to kill before zero hour arrived.

“Preferably one of the weekends, but is there a chance you can keep it open?”

Far away from my spot in the kitchen, the living room was preoccupied by my daddy sorting out interior designs for the wedding. Because we resigned in the United Kingdom, we were not necessarily limited. Then again, we were restricted from a few set of themes. Louis and I were not tropical goers; so we would not set that scene. We were not country folk, either; so we did not plan to go there. Although our mothers bantering during the holidays were not how we wanted to decide upon, Louis and I were aiming towards the spectrum of blue and white for our color scheme.

Across from Louis, the distant sound of the television continued on. On this particular morning, the news was raving on about a burglary performed at a bank a couple of cities away. I would have cared to learn more about the subject had it not been for the reservation calls I had to make. Once I had finished the call for our appointment with catering, I got up to check on my fiancé. I heard the faint speech of the familiar news reporter that I never seemed to come to love.

“We advise everybody around this area to stay alert, and to not approach the suspect if he ever comes back to strike again. I’m Shelley Nevi, reporter live on channel 3 news. Back to you, Chet.”

            “Some of these designs,” Louis mumbled to himself.

            “What do you have?” I approached him, lowering myself down to sit next to him.

            Spread out along the coffee table, there were bits and snippets of every wedding setting that could have been made possible in our area. Taking a first look at the jumbled pile, it made my eyes twitch. I turned away temporarily so I would not become dizzy.

            “Nothing much,” my daddy replied; “All of these seem over the top.”

            It was true. Nearly everything was customizable, yet the possibilities were not among our favor. Whether we had to choose from round tables or square tables; extravagant ballroom or quiet backyard party; flowered centerpieces or none at all; Louis and I had a lot to go over.

            “I’m buried beneath an avalanche. How are we supposed to choose?”

            My eyes scanned the overloaded mountain of papers. All of them varied in color, yet I had spotted one that could have been the simplest among the crowd. My hand reached forward. My fingers caught onto the edge of the brochure, slipping it past the others. I observed the lettering that was dressed in an elegant, yet readable, text. SAILOR’S FLEET, it read; SAIL AWAY TOGETHER. Below the description of the theme, there was a printed picture of a casual reception hall. Series of white tabletops with a decent shade of blue stretched all along the panoramic. Behind the set, there was a beautiful view of a distant ocean with a sunset peeking through the long stretch windows. Overall, the plans seemed classical, yet modernly appealing.

            “What about this one?” I directed Louis towards the brochure.

            Exhausted, yet interested, my papa scooted next to me to catch a better look. He stared at the cover for a moment before asking me to flip the rest of the booklet open. Abruptly, I flipped the cover over to reveal a more detailed photograph of the same hall. There was a dinner bar with pictures of boats and starfish hanging from the wooden walls, as well as a separate dance floor. Another picture was angled so perfectly that it had casted an astonishing view on the outside area. The beach beyond the premises had a whimsical feel as if you could hear the waves crashing along the shoreline. Though, from a hypocrite’s perspective, nothing can be so grand.

            “Look at that,” I pointed to the sample invitation card.

            Along the edges was a printed silver embroidered rope. Along the rectangle, there were the usual necessary information-Bride’s name, groom’s name, location, and date. The card could be flipped open to receive a personal note or message. The elaborate style was easy for Louis and I, but what really caught my attention was the anchor that was printed on the lower right corner of the card.

“A sailor themed wedding?” Louis thought for a moment, rubbing his chin, before stating; “I like it.”

            “It’s settled then, I should make an appointment;” I got up to retrieve the phone again, but Louis stopped me.

            “Hold on, little boy. I regret to inform you that you are out of nappies.”

            My eyebrow rose, “I am?”

            “Yes, and I’d like to go out for a little shopping before dinner. Do you want to come with me?”

            I would have said yes had it not been for the fact that I was not exactly dressed yet. Louis understood that, since I was making calls on and off all morning, he was not the only one that was tired. He agreed to have me do more of the hard work while he was away. Louis packed up his wallet and his keys before kissing me good-bye.

            “Try not to miss me too much, ok?”

            “I don’t know,” I grinned; “That’ll be hard to do.”

            “I’ll be back soon,” my daddy called from the door that connected to the garage; “I love you!”

            “Love you too!”

            The door shut and I could hear the muffled sound of the garage door opening. Soon, it was closed and I was greeted with the same banal works of Shelley Nevi. After I dialed the number for the reception place, I decided to turn off the T.V. altogether. The lady over the phone was very kind, considering the fact that she was patient with our distant date. We discussed the number of guests that were expected and the type of catering we were planning to receive. As for musical entertainment, I informed her that we were going into account from the works of my iPod. She welcomed the idea, but instructed me to be careful of my possessions once the party had begun. Something told me that she was quite familiar with the lost and found column.

            After I had set an appointment to visit the sailor’s hall, it had come to my attention that the location was somewhere in between the close enough and far away. Part of the family would have to travel a long distance to get to the sea while others would just take a stroll in the park. I was greeted with yet another problem when I realized that there was a funny feeling growing in my bowel regions. It was then I contemplated on going in my current nappy. At first, I was sure that Louis would understand why I had thrown away a used nappy all by myself. Then again, I sensed that he was not one to negotiate. I could have taken the time to continue the thinking process, but my bowels were screaming at me to get on with nature’s course.

            For a moment or two, I had denied it. A little push or two afterwards had confirmed that I was constipated. This only added onto the situation. It was only the matter of discovery that would potentially ruin me. I decided to go forth with the accusation that this was an emergency my daddy would never hear about. When I set down my phone and walked down the hall in search for the toilet, I felt like a little boy salvaging the remains of a cookie jar before his mother returns home from work. More or less, this was not a good idea.

            The room that consisted of a toilet, a shower, and a sink, after my agreement to enroll in age play, suddenly became a parody of no man’s land. The entire section of the house, from the moment I traded in my big boy pants for diapers, was a stranger to me. I shut the door after entering the bathroom. My fingers hoisted the hem of my jumper up in order to fidget with the strings of my pajama bottoms. In the back of my mind, I tried not to remind myself that those were the same exact laces that my daddy had drawn up in a bow that very morning after changing me into the last nappy we had in the house. My stomach cringed, but my asshole ached even more. Finally, I permitted myself the risk and slowly sat down. The memory of a cool toilet seat had revealed itself to me. I’d take it that, because one less member of the house was able to occupy the porcelain hole, the seat was not used as often as before.

            I had not sat on that throne since my stomach flu, so I took the time to try my best. I’d give it a go only to find that nothing was coming out in the prospect. As a result, I was left with a sense of fullness--not in the good way. I pouted. With the tapes of my nappy and the waistband of my sweatpants stretching around my calves, I came to the conclusion that I would either have to sit it out or take care of it in a different manner. I crossed my arms while I tried to decide what was best. However, my thinking process was stopped by a sudden commotion that was coming from the opposite side of the house.

I sat in silence. My eyes stared at the door, fearing the worse.

“Harry?” My papa had returned. My heart stopped.

His volume of voice elapsed, rising as he was approaching my destination, as he made his way down the hall. “Darling, I hate to break it to you, but they only had one style of diaper at the … store …”

            The pause made my guts tingle and my chest freeze. My guilt only became worse as I heard a knock of the bathroom door.

“Harry?” Louis pondered.

I was silent.

 “Are you in there?”

I took the quiet route, which only made me regret even more. It would not work, and I knew this, but it was too late to back out anyway.

“Harold?”

“Shit,” I whispered, putting a hand to my mouth as soon as I said it.

“Did you just say what I think you said?”

Louis’ voice was now on the verge of thunder while my eyes were on the verge of rain. Admittedly, I could not blame him. Presently, I had broken a handful amount of rules by committing this act. Let alone I had gone so far to hide my swearing only to fail at the worse moment possible. I did not have to put much thought into it. I knew I was sure to receive a wash up soon enough. As for my reply, I was once again silent.

“Harry, don’t lie to me.” There was another pause that consisted of a loud breath that was Louis’ sanity slipping away.

“Don’t try my patience. You are breaking so many rules, do you know that?” It was as if my daddy was preparing for a conniption. A second had passed before he took another breath as if to calm down. I silently hoped it was the soothing suggestion.

 “Alright, baby; it’s been a good morning for both of us. We’ve done so much for the wedding; I don’t want to get angry with you. Please, just open the door and we’ll settle this calmly.”

I finally used my words, glad that he was taking a gentle turn; “I can’t.”

“Well then,” Louis’ hand did the honors of opening the door. He stood in the doorway, taking in the very scene of me sitting on the toilet with my nappy pulled down.

I did the best I could explaining myself; “I’m sorry, daddy! I had to go, and this was the last diaper, and I’m constipated.”

“You’re constipated?” Louis repeated.

“Yes,” I said.

Louis shook his head; “I can understand if you’re having troubles, but why did you think that it was acceptable to use the toilet? You didn’t have to break a rule; and why did you swear right in front of me?”

“Dad, I-,” I attempted to collect my words as I stood. Recollecting my pants, I stated what first came to mind; “Well, technically, it wasn’t right in front of you.”

“There’s no need for that mouth, young man. You honestly thought you could pull off some cheeky act while I’m away?”

Louis’ eyes glared at me. What was a caring stare became frightening to say the least. Punishment was on the horizon. Louis knew it, and I knew it. Escaping was not an option, so why did I think it was a good idea to try? Instinct took over when I bolted for it. I attempted to slide past my papa in a swift motion. I was hit with the cold hard truth—or, I should rather say pinched.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” my daddy’s fingers brushed through my hair, found my ear, and grasped on tightly; “You’re not going anywhere without your ear.”

I let out a shriek as Louis pulled me back into the bathroom. He released me only to have me sit on the toilet seat once again. As soon as he let go, I rubbed at the hot sight of my pulled ear. I was not exactly paying attention when my daddy crouched down to grab what seemed to be rectangular and thick within the lower cabinets. Automatically, he adjusted the nozzles so the water would run. He worked with one hand under the water and the other grabbed for a washcloth.

It was then I realized that there was to be a consequence to my swearing. The pending idea of a sudsy aftertaste struck me moments before the punishment even began. Guilt returned beneath my chest and it stuck there like a rock in the Giant’s Causeway. Only the water was rushing for an entirely different reason.

“You think running away will solve your problem?” Louis was focused on making sure every bit of the cloth had gotten a chance to have a taste of the soap he held. “You’ve got another thing coming.”

I stayed quiet, but looked up to him with a look that was not as similar to a puppy-eyed whimper; yet more like an awkwardly silent stranger.

“I hope you like the taste of soap because that’s exactly what you’re going to get after this.”

I suddenly became confused; “Y-you aren’t going to spank me?”

“Oh, I’ll make that decision later, Harry;” Louis glared at me as if he was certain on it. “Right now, there are more plans ahead of you. You just wait my snookum.”

            My papa shut the water off and settled the bar of soap on the counter. He gathered up a cloth so that the ends were wrapped around his pointer and middle finger. He pinched his fingers to keep a hold of the material as he sat across from me on the edge of the shower tub. My body inched further away from him as if to avoid chastisement. Of course, this only resulted in my back straightening when coming in contact with the toilet.

            _No escape, stupid_ ; I reminded myself.

            “Little boy,” Louis spoke in the voice of a schoolmaster; “Do you understand what you’ve done wrong?”

            I nodded.

            “And?” Louis motioned for me to use my words.

            “Yes. I swore and used the toilet without permission.”

            “Exactly; are you supposed to use the toilet?”

            It pained me to answer him; “No.”

            “That’s right. Harry, I’d like you to understand something before we start this. You knew I would be gone for a while, right?”

            “Mmm-hmm.”

            “And did you think you would be breaking a rule by doing what you did?”

            _Get this over with, please_ ; “Yes.”

            “That’s the point, Harry;” a small dash of suds fell to the floor. “You know that if you are sick, you can use the toilet as long as you come to me. Sure, I was out, but I always have my phone on me.”

            Internally, I face palmed myself without the need to consider a V8.

            Louis fumbled with the washcloth, intending to begin the punishment. “I’d like for you to remember that next time-if there ever is a next time. So, now that that’s covered, do you understand why I have to do this?”

            I nodded, still aware of the immovable lump in my bowels.

“Alright then, Harry;” He finally commanded, “open up.”

Louis raised the washcloth up to my lips which I kept mounted shut out of instinct. It was an accident. His hand shifted back, which resulted in a frustrated expression from my papa.

“Honestly? I’ll plug your nose.” He arched his eyebrows.

“I’m sor-”

What I intended to say was meant to be taken as an apology, but it suddenly became a mistake as Louis got to work with the soapy cloth. In an instant, his fingers were scrubbing at the insides of my cheeks. Causing me to cough, he moved from my cheeks to my teeth. As he circled around, my taste buds experienced the tangy taste of the soap Louis had selected for me. My tongue could have shriveled if it had not been for Louis lathering it up with suds and bubbles.

            My throat automatically began to gag in spite of the washcloth. Louis returned the message with a firm swipe to the inner sides of my teeth. The taste of the saggy fibers made me frown and my stomach churn. Swallowing became a tactic I did not wish to follow.

            “Almost done,” my papa muttered, seeking out the nooks and crannies that had not been punished yet.

            Though, to be honest, my whole body felt chastised even without my bottom thrashed. Finally, the soapy cloth was removed from my mouth. Louis stood me up and permitted me to rinse. I did so hastily and hoped to not be condemned by the aftertaste forever. As I filled my cup up with water, however, I noticed that Louis was particularly busy for a dominant that had just finished punishing his baby. That being said, rummaging through a drawer for a small plastic container was not what I had in mind. I shut off the water after rinsing myself free of the soapy leftovers, and then turned to meet my daddy.

            “What?” I spoke in a quiet voice; my tongue still shivered from the violent wash.

            Louis lowered the lid of the toilet down to have a seat; “You’ve took that very well, Harry; but I’m afraid we aren’t finished yet. You said you were constipated. If you don’t mind, I’d like to help you with that right now.”

            He was right. My internal production felt as if it had stalled for quite some time. I was trying to interpret what he was trying to say.

            “Dad?” I stood before the sink.

            “Come over here,” he demanded; “It’s not over yet.”

            I obeyed with a minimal prediction that a spanking was in order. It wasn’t until I eyed the suppository on my way forward when I began to fear for the worse. My daddy helped me adjust myself over his lap only to experience the cool press of his hand on my back.

            “I’ll make this quick, sweetheart,” he said, slipping my diaper down; “Try not to squirm too much and everything should be fine.”

            I took his word for it loosely. Turning my head, I made an attempt to distinguish what exactly Louis had planned for me. My gaze did not reach much advantage because of Louis’ lower legs blocking my view. In order to avoid straining my neck, I turned back, looking down at the depressing view of where the bathroom floor met the wall.

            Then, I heard the container twist open. The sound of preparation behind me caused a sense of worry to overcome me. Regret also struck me as a set of Louis’ fingers began to pry my butt cheeks apart. I immediately felt exposed to the potential dangers of the world. The one that just happened to take the cake would benefit me in one of the most embarrassing ways possible. When I felt the tip of the suppository poke against my hole, I knew it was all downhill from there.

            Once Louis found the precise angle, he tampered with it. He sent the suppository well up into my rectum. I whimpered. This was on account of two reasons; One being that I was soon to return to the bathroom for another meeting with the porcelain hole. The second one mattered in regards of my manhood. Louis’ finger caused a rush of blood to fasten through the organ I was not interested in using at that moment. As the suppository hit me like a laxative bullet train, my penis was busy in between my papa’s legs brushing against the side of the toilet. My daddy had finished the deed by letting my cheeks rest for a few seconds before sending me off with a subtle slap on the bum.

            “There you are, young man.”

            After sliding my nappy back over my waist, my daddy began to help me up. Because of the cold weather, my papa had given me the right to wear my pajama bottoms as well. Sitting on one side of his lap, I looked down. Pitifully, the erection was thriving through the absorbent layers. I looked to Louis in an unsure way. He took notice of it, observed it, and I did not know what to say.

 “Daddy,” I whispered.

“Is that what I think it is?” He looked up.

I nodded, too ashamed to use any form of words. I was greeted with a terrible sentence while Louis led me off his lap to stand up.

“Well, if you were a good boy, I’d say you could take care of that nonsense. Come along.”

 I could feel and hear my nappy shuffled as I waddled behind my daddy. Needless to say, I was ashamed. Although Louis was holding my hand all the way from the toilet to the living room, I did not feel particularly safe. For one, the source of my manhood was not rubbing up against my nappy in a comfortable manner. A rash was underway, I could tell. Second, because of the laxatives that had paraded my rectum, I could feel the suppository getting its work into action. There was very minimal burning in a place that was never meant to burn. Finally, by the sight of the stool in the corner, I knew that my punishment was not over by a long shot. Louis and I were standing near the tall wooden stool when he was explaining to me.

“Now, Harry, I’d like for you to stay here until you’ve went in your nappy. Suppositories usually take an hour to settle, more or less. I know, it’s tempting, but do not touch yourself. As long as you behave, I won’t have to give you a spanking. Is it a deal?”

I imagined myself bickering him for having to sit in the corner for an hour. I also thought about what would happen if I went ahead and tampered with the growing monstrosity in my pants. However, I knew taking those routes would end in nothing but trouble.

Obediently, I said, “yes.”

My papa smiled; “Good, but before that, come here.”

He spread his arms before me, requesting a hug. I accepted the comforting part of the punishment as it made everything else seem completely understandable. The ends of his hair brushed up against my ear, as well as mine did to his. Louis rubbed my back with the width of his hand.

I told him, “I’m sorry, dad.”

“It’s alright, Harry,” my fiancé replied; “Just stay quiet there and you’ll be forgiven. I’ll change you once it’s done. Holler if you need me.”

I nodded. Mumbling an agreement, I lowered myself down to have a seat on the timeout stool. Just as before, my only friend seemed to be the boring white canvas that was where the two walls connected each other. As I continued to sit there, my penis rested in the stage that was both uncomfortable and disappointing. It was hungry for something it could not receive. The padding of the diaper made it itchy all around. The longer I sat there, the more ached and helpless I felt.

My boredom became slightly relieved when I found entertainment behind me. Because I could not turn around, my ears became a sort of tool as to figure out what my daddy was doing behind me. Occasionally, I would hear him walk around the house. I detected that he was using the computer for a minute or two before setting himself in the kitchen. Then, I could not hear very well as to what was going on. After faintly hearing a conversation that only had one side, I predicted that he was ordering a pizza over the phone.

Time ticked on without a set clock that would mark my freedom. Truth be told, it all depended on my bowel movements. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally felt the urge to go. Eagerly, I did what I could to push. The suppository had successfully unloaded what I had for me as I sat there in the timeout corner. The stool did not show to the advantage. There was always something about going in a nappy that I could not seem to depict. As for that moment, I just needed a sense of relief and evidence to show for it in order to be free.

“Daddy!” I called, “dad!”

“Yes, baby?” He entered the living room ready to listen.

“I need a changing,” my head turned to face him.

“You do?” He recalled and I reassured him with a nod. “Well then, let’s go see what you’ve done.”

My dad offered his hand to me and I took it with hope. He helped me out of the corner so we could find our way to the bedroom. Louis and I could already smell the nastiness of what exploded in my pants. I just wanted to clean up in the end. Looking down at me as I positioned myself on the floor, Louis commented softly.

“You were very good in that corner, little boy. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, papa;” I was ready for the usual process of diaper changing, but the temptation was suddenly halted when my fiancé seemed to remember something.

“Oh, umm …” Louis muttered.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Wait a minute,” he suddenly got up from the floor to dash out of the room.

Again, I was alone and quiet as ever wondering what was soon to come about. Louis returned a moment later as promised, sticking his head out from the hallway.

“Hey,” he said; “Remember before I found you in the toilet I had some bad news for you?”

I was starting to be concerned; “No, what’s bad?”

“Well,” Louis stepped aside so I could have a full look at what he had in store for me.

Typically, the nappies we would purchase were encased in blue or green wrapping. This one completely contradicted the odds. This package was pink. From what I could observe from my spot on the floor, I saw that there were imprints of cartoonish glamour. Sparkles were planted on the side, which complemented the image of what appeared to be a royal majesty. To top it all off, a magic wand was held in her hand.

“It’s all they had,” Louis remarked.

“Princess themed?” I stated, “Seriously?”

“I think I found your size. You don’t like it?”

Louis kneeled beside me so I could have a better look. To be honest, I was laughing more often than scoffing.

“Well, it’s not that bad,” I remarked; Variation is nice every once in a while.”

            It wasn’t until I as all cleaned up that I got a chance to look in the mirror. The appearance was inviting. As a prize for good behavior and a clean mouth, my erection had gradually faded away on account of a little help from the hands of my daddy. Louis footed up behind me when I was in front of the mirror, wrapping his arms around me for a spoon-like hug. His head perched up on my shoulder. I could almost feel him standing on his tiptoes to accomplish his goal.

“I feel pretty,” I stated.

“You should be, darling;” He fought through my long locks to peck me on the cheek, “you are.”


	9. Wretched Destiny

**Harry POV**

            My drive home from work was supposed to be a drive I had completed countless times before. Turning out of the bakery parking lot, the only wish I would have granted for myself was to have a fine night snuggling up in a blanket with kitty and my daddy by my side. My hopes were simple and easily accessible. I had reached my local neighborhood when I heard the distant sound of sirens. Alarming as they were, I managed to pull over the side of the rode so the police could pass by.

            One cop car sailed down the road. Another followed after. I paid no mind to what commotion there could have possibly happened. Brushing it off, I stepped on the accelerator and rode along. What was strange was, afterwards, the familiar feeling of a dark, sinking intuition had risen. Whether it was superstition or subsequent sadness, the disruption could not simply fade away. Breathing deeply, I turned down my street. From a distance, I had spotted what I found both peculiar and ultimately outrageous.

            Two cop cars were parked in the driveway of my home. Both vehicles had successfully occupied the remains of what was an available parking space. In addition to immediately freaking me out, I was abruptly forced to stop my car along the outside of my resident. Handling the keys and stomping out of the car, I made a break for the front door. Upon entering, the first thing I noticed was the increased source of noise. I shut the door behind me, trying to predict what could have happened to shake up a typical day on the job.

            “What was that?” A man’s voice thundered.

            “Wait, it might be my husband.”

            “Your what?”

            The answer was left hanging as Louis joined me in the living room.

            My expression was stifled; “Da-,” I cleared my throat as I made an attempt to unhook the buttons of my coat. “What’s going on?”

            I think you might want to keep your jacket on, lad.”

            With concern, I hoisted my coat back up on my shoulders; “Why?”

            When greeted with an abrupt silence, I became impatient. I dashed past Louis to have a look for myself. I forgot why getting down to business was the important thing. It wasn’t like I was going to receive any happy news on account of a lot full of cop cars and a strange chill in the air.

I stood in the entrance of the living room. A few yards away, an investigator was observing the frames that help up the window. The blinds had been removed to reveal the shattered shapes of glass that were stuck up at the edges and sprawled across the floor. The early winds of spring guided its way through the halls of the house. I almost held my breath as I turned to Louis with a face that looked like I had just returned from a graveyard.

“Haz,” my fiancé muttered; “We’ve been robbed.”

At first, it was an unfortunate coincidence that we could not avoid. Then a voice had shouted itself in my mind. It was a scream that no one ever took a liking to. I remembered the old news that was shown as Louis and I prepared our wedding plans. Shelley Nevi was covering a case at the sight of a bank regarding a burglary. The voice screeched, _I told you so_.

“Wha-” I tried; “What do we do? What _can_ we do? And what d-”

A sudden thought struck me; “Wait a minute. Louis, how are you here so early?”

“I worked over lunch, so I got out an hour early. I just can’t believe I came home to this. I had to call the cops.”

“And that’s a good thing you did, sir. With all we know, he could have come back.”

I had suspected that this was the officer Louis was having a discussion with before I arrived home. Raising his hand to greet me with a firm shake, he introduced himself.

“Officer Horan, that’s my name.”

“Thanks for coming. I’m Harry Styles.”

The man released his hand and squint his eyes as if he was trying to figure out something. Then, he stuttered; “Eh, I’m sorry to ask you this question in the middle of this case, but you look sort of familiar.”

My shoulders rose and then fell again; “Weird, I don’t see why.”

“Oh, well,” he was suddenly flushed with embarrassment; “Maybe we met in another life.”

“Or you saw him on the kiss cam,” Louis made his remark, stepping forward in order not to vanish in the background.

“You were … you two were …” Gradually, the officer had a sudden clash of starstruck. He automatically belted out a laugh that was both precious and frighteningly humorous.

“Ah!” He shouted; “That was hilarious! And your head! Oh, how’s your head now?”

“Doing fine,” I replied. Though, frankly, recalling the tragic fall often reminded the center of interest to throb in the pain of flashback. I tried to ignore the impact at hand, changing the subject in the process. “But, really, what is the news on the burglar?”

Officer Horan let out a breath; “Well, from what’s reported already, they’ve taken a few expensive valuables. Practically anything he could fit out that window over there. Sir, do you have any possessions in particular that could have possibly attracted this attacker?”

            I struggled to think, “I don’t know.”

Out of a nervous reaction, my gaze glided past him to observe what the robber could have possibly taken. My fingers curled into my palms as a stress habit; “A T.V; a computer; an Xbox …”

            I gasped. My eyes dashed down. My fourth finger was overrun by a sense of emptiness. Louis and the officer jumped at the sudden scare while I was on the search for what was clearly missing. I dashed past Louis, out of the living room, and headed for the bedroom. My fiancé called after me, but I did not stop until I had reached the nightstand. Once again, I found a reason to panic.

            “My ring!” I shouted, “Where is my ring?!”

My knees buckled under me. Searching under the bed, my eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness where I had previously lost my prize of engagement. I felt my mouth frowning and I breathed as if it was soon to be my last. I turned around fast to see Officer Horan and Louis outside the doorframe, staring at me as if I was a wild animal.

Franticly, I jumped up; “The son of a bitch stole my ring!”

Louis flashed a dead stare at me. Surely, I had learned that lesson before, but fright had obligated me to defy all means of what was our big secret. The officer raised his arms. He approached me in hopes of calming me down.

“Hold on, sir. What ring exactly?”

“My engagement ring,” I relapsed; “Round diamond; Silver band; Brown box.”

Officer Horan opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the mechanical sound waves of his walkie-talkie. Shaking his head, he fell back.

He excused himself before turning away; “We’ll do what we can.”

Left alone, Louis and I were left staring at each other. My anger had temporarily subsided and was substituted for plain sickness to the soul. My hands rubbed at my arm muscles. There was a chill in the air.

“It’s cold in here,” I mumbled; “What do we do about the window? How are we going to sleep tonight?”

With his head down, Louis footed closer to me for an embrace. He wrapped his arms around me tightly. I returned the much needed favor.

“I don’t know, Hazza. I just don’t know.”


	10. Character Asks

**Louis**  
**Do you have a spanking kink? At what age did you discover your daddy kink?**

Well … maybe a little bit. Though I’ll only do it if Hazza calls for it. As for the age, let’s just say my wonder years were fun! :)

**Is hard to see Harry in pain?**

Absolutely, but the recovery afterwards is the most important part of the punishment. Harry would never get off of my knee without knowing that I love him to bits—and I do, truly.

**Harry**

**When Louis spanks you, how do you not come right there?**

Hehe, that’s just the thing! Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your cock smooshed between two massive thighs while your bum is burning? It hurts! Let alone how difficult it is to focus during a punishment like that.

**Ever dreamed of two daddies controlling you?**

Now that would be a dream! No, I haven’t to be honest.

**How is your sex life? Do you have a spanking kink?**

It’s alright at the moment. My daddy’s always there when I need him! :) No, I do not have a spanking kink, but I know that if I ever get pounded it would be for a reason.

**Both**

**Would you ever have children?**

**H:** Yes!

 **L:** Definitely! I’ve always wanted kids.

 **H:** But we’d have to work out the adoption papers, of course.

 **L:** and I don’t know what we’d do with all the extra diapers to handle.

 **H:** Yeah, having one child is hard enough; Isn’t it daddy?

 **L:** Aww, you!

 **H & L:** ;*

**Do you think you would spank your kids?**

**L:** No. Spanking Harry is one thing, but hitting children is another. I wouldn’t want to teach them the wrong influence. I wouldn’t want to encourage them to hit anyone or for them to get the wrong message.

 **H:** Exactly. Besides, children need explanations for what they’ve done wrong, not just a slap on the bottom. And spanking can damage a child even further— mentally, I mean. I know what it’s like to get spanked for obvious reasons, but I’d never punish my children like that.

**Hit Zayn in the head for being a solo artist then whisper in his ear that you love him.**

**L:** Isn’t that funny how I met him and he’s a solo artist?! And no, that would be creepy.

**Zayn is better than both of you. Why? Because he is ZAYN. You should be melting**

**L:** EXCUSE ME?!

 **H:** It’s the middle of spring and it’s freezing outside. I think it’s impossible to melt at the moment. P.S. I love daddy when he throws a virtual tantrum.

 **L:** I READ THAT YOUNG LAD!

 **H:** I love you.

 **L:** Ditto, baby cakes.

**Author**

**What inspired you to create this story?**

Story time! So I was on tumblr (great start, I know) exploring the dark depths of who-knows-what and I came across a few age play blogs. It sounded like an interesting idea so I started writing and thousands of drafts and editing later, HERE WE ARE!

**(Not to be personal) but was it your own kink?**

Shhhhhhhh … I believe that is written out, my friend. ;)

**Can I have your babies? And your babie's babies? How do you think babies taste. I want our baby to taste like Zayn. BABIES. Your changing the diaper.**

You are a very interesting person. I’m gray-asexual so I don’t know how we can make that work, but I’m sure something can be arranged.


	11. Rough and Not So Tough

**Harry POV**

My duty of dishwashing gave me plenty of alone time in the corner of the bakery. I had a lot to think about. Precisely, what I was lucky to have, what I was unlucky to get, and my luck in general. The kitchen at home was of no difference. I was scrubbing away the grease of a pan while Louis was sprawled up on the couch watching the news. The window the burglar had broken into had been repaired, but in a rather poor way. The framing did not match the rest of the scenery, and I was increasingly becoming annoyed as I thought about it. Meanwhile, Shelley Nevi returned on the screen.

“And I was surprised to find that nearly everyone in the world has recognized the man who lost his engagement ring is the same man that took a fall last football season.”

            Louis and I saw the television replay the excruciating event of the kiss cam.

I scrubbed harder, mumbling under my breath; “Oh, the kiss cam?! Oh, blah.”

“I’m sorry to say that the thief is still at large. In other news, the manager of a local storage facility has reported of a boy and his girlfriend living in a storage space because his parents disapproved of their affair. Story at 11.”

“News at eleven. The thief is still out there ladies and gents! And I’m going to talk like this because I’m a news reporter that doesn’t know how to mind her own freaking business.”

“What was that?” Louis’ head whisked around, eyeing me from behind the couch cushions.

I huffed out a breath. I let go of the little sponge I was using, and forced the water off. The arch of my eyebrows made a signal for my daddy to come over. He entered the kitchen slowly as if not to annoy an irritate dragon.

“Harry,” he spoke calmly. With a small pause, he added, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m mad. OK?” I spat out my confession; “I’m mad at the news. I’m mad at the freak that broke into our house. I’m mad at the home improvement guys that don’t know how to mount a window. I’m mad at the world, and I’m mad that my ring is gone.”

My sudden outburst sent Louis in for a sudden setback; “Haz-”

“No!” I turned away. This was too much.

“I just don’t get it! Why did it have to happen to us?! We’re good people. Why do we have to go through this sh-shit?”

My teeth started to shiver and my eyes were near the peak of leaking. Seconds of silence passed. Louis looked pondered from my choice of words. I covered my face with my hands to hide the rest of my dignity. That did not work. It never did. Louis watched me. From the look on my face, he changed to a more sympathetic outlook.

            “Hey, hey;” he retorted; “It’s OK, baby. I feel the same.”

My chin snuggled over his shoulder. I feared and felt the worst at that moment. Our embrace was the relieve I was in need of more than ever. When I coughed, my cries were sent out in wails.

“I’m sorry,” I sniffled. It hurt to speak.

“I get it.”

“S-Soap,” I whimpered.

“No,” Louis whispered calmly; “I won’t punish you for this.”

             I felt his grasp close tighter around my waist. His warmth attached to me like the late English spring outside. I kept a hold of him in return, closing my eyes as he delivered his counsel.

            “It’s only been two days, Harry;” my daddy exclaimed; “They’re on the lookout for the robber as we speak. We’ll get your ring back, don’t you worry. Everything is going to be alright.”

            “You sure?” I brought my hand up to wipe my cheek dry.

            “Yes,” Louis stepped away momentarily to snatch a tissue or two from the counter.

            He raised his hand up, holding the Kleenex up to my nostrils. After instructing me to blow, I obeyed. Watery snot followed through and my voice became clearer, but deep down inside I was nowhere near free of my troubles. The spasm in my throat slowly subsided. I coughed again as Louis hugged me one last time.

            “With or without the ring, the wedding will still go on,” my papa reassured me; “And we’ll have fun going to the sailor’s hall tomorrow, won’t we, sweetie?”

            “Yes,” I made a silent breath; “L- I mean, daddy?” I corrected myself.

            “Yes, darling?”

“I was thinking, how can we play ‘Here Comes the Bride’ at the wedding if … I’m … not … one.”

The question was weird. Of course, this was only the relevant way to bring up the subject.

“Good point,” my papa loosened the hug to take a step back and think; “Any other suggestions?

“Well, there’s always ‘I Write Sins’.”

“Are you sure?” Louis laughed, “I don’t think anyone would get it.”

            “It’s 2015,” I noted abruptly; “I think everyone’s heard PATD at least once in their lifetime.”

            My fiancé rolled his eyes, “Not the blue hairs.”

            “Well,” I became quiet again; “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

            Louis opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a ringtone. From his back pocket, he brought out his phone.

            “Be right back, honey,” he said before stepping aside for a bit of privacy.

            I was left alone in the kitchen. Standing on the cool marble floor, I took the moment to relax for a while. In the background, Shelli Nevi continued to report on whatever the evening news had to offer. Louis was busy having a conversation that was muffled to my ears. When I turned my head to have a look out the window, I noticed there was a bit of a fluttering motion near the edge of where I could see. Curiosity overtook me, so I footed across the kitchen.

            My nappy rustled beneath my pajama bottoms as I leaned closer to the counter. It had taken a long winter, but the robins had finally returned. My eyes gazed at the small gray bird from a distance. The little fellow had built a home on the fence next door. The robin’s orange fur fluffed before it set off in search of another branch or twig. A faint smirk had curved on the side of my lips. I blinked with a strange sense of delight. Spring was here. I could tell.

“Thank you very much. Bye.”

Louis had strolled into the kitchen from where he came with an even bigger smile on his face. I used my fingers to brush the hair away from my face. Meeting him with an open expression, Louis pranced over to me as if to jump for joy.

            “Harry! Great news!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a long time. I apologize for taking so long, but so much has happened within the past month. I worked my ass off over finals, got my first boyfriend, went to Senior Prom, got my first kiss, graduated from high school, and I’m getting ready for uni. I’m always happy to update my stories, but sometimes it feels as if it’s getting harder and harder to keep these promises. All I can do is try my best and get back to it as soon as I can. I hope you’ve had a good day and I’ll talk to you soon. :)


	12. Sailor's Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: The following chapter of Padded x2 contains the subject of homophobia. This was only for the sake of the story and I hope no one is offended by this. Otherwise, please enjoy this chapter. ***

**Louis POV**

            I will never forget the face of my beloved as the receptionist at the police station returned his prized possession. My curly-haired mate nearly jumped for joy as the small brown box was flipped open to reveal the ring that had proclaimed our engagement. I was happy too, for I knew that the robber would never have the succession of trading it in for cash. On the way to Sailor’s Fleet we were nonetheless excited to visit the place where our celebration could suffice. That being said, the trip took a little more than a simple detour. Our in-land residence became a slight regret as we made our way east towards the water.

            At one point, Harry complained of the tiring distance. I secretly blamed his family preferring the west side of the country. Eventually, we took the trip off the freeway and came across our destination. Instantly, the English weather showed our sudden change in setting. The area that overlooked the river and the ocean gave a cool and very much windy effect. Overall, I did not care at that waking moment. My legs became stiff from the long road trip.  

            After parking the car, Harry and I took the liberty to relieve ourselves from the uncomfortableness. I did the classic option of bending at the knees to take care of my legs. Harry extended his arms and stretched his spine. Suddenly, Harry stopped mid-stretch.

            “Wait a minute,” my fiancé turned to me in a flash.

“What?” I wondered aloud as I locked the car.

Harry’s eyes gleamed with concern. “If we decide to reserve this place, they’re going to want a date. What do we say?”

I was stumped just as much as he was. I proclaimed a simple solution as if I was avoiding a responsibility that would come back to me swinging.

“We just tell them we are unsure.”

“I guess so,” Harry strutted beside me. As we strolled through the parking lot, he continued. “I was thinking maybe November 22nd. A cool Sunday morning would be great for a wedding.”

“We’ll see, Harry,” a cheeky smile was brought up to my face as I took note of his concern; “Don’t you worry.”

Almost immediately upon entering the building, we were greeted with what was considered expensive scenery for the common folk. Red carpet was planted tightly below the soles of our shoes. Above us, we could see that the wooden staircase curved around to another part of the hall. The walls were painted with sheer white. A champagne cabinet was stored in the corner of the room next to the reception desk that was occupied by a kind middle-aged woman that went by the name of Ms. Dickenson. She greeted us accordingly, checked for our appointment, and then began our tour.

Up the grand staircase and around the bend, Harry and I noticed that the furnishings were gradually transitioning to a more modernized appearance. A couch in the hallway looked like a Scotsman’s kilt made of a blue tartan. A brown leather chair followed beside it. Overall, the sailor theme really started to come into play as we walked past a painting of a ship sailing magnificently across one of the seven seas. The area was cool and comforting. I hoped that Harry took a liking to it as well. Ms. Dickenson rallied off the usual details for a wedding reception, including the catering and the seating arrangements. Eventually, she asked us about a very important topic regarding the wedding.

“Have you organized a guest list yet?”

“Not completely, though there may be,” I took a moment to consider the prospect; “I’d say roughly 120 at max.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear,” the receptionist exclaimed; “This hall can seat up to 150 people. As for catering, you have a choice of family style or a buffet.”

We continued down the corridor until we were greeted with a set of beige French doors. Ms. Dickenson escorted us in, pushing the rectangular structures wide open. Just as expected, the images of the brochure shot back to us in a life-size form. The panoramic view of the raging sea came into clear view the farther we strolled into the room. I could see the twinkle in Harry’s eyes immediately upon arrival. Turning our heads, we could see that the bar was emptied out for the time being. The familiar starfish still hung with pride.

The dance floor consisted of a generous space. The stand for the D.J. occupied a separate area not too far away. As for the tables that were once draped with a white linen fabric, they were being piled against the wall with a loud clank. A tall man with a scruffy looking mustache rolled another table to the side. I looked to Harry in puzzlement as I tried to construct a reason as to why there would be a disruption during our tour of Sailor’s Fleet.

Ms. Dickenson investigated the situation. “Sir, what are you doing here sorting the tables?”

“Randazo’s on his lunch break. So _someone_ has to take care of this place.” The man rolled his eyes as hard as he rolled the next set of tables. He was dramatizing a deed that never had to happen.

“Well,” Ms. Dickenson sighed.

Secretly, it seemed as if she was thinking what I was thinking. A vibration resounded from the contraption that was kept in her pocket. It was her cell phone. The caller I.D. was a business number, no doubt.

“Oh, I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’m getting a call. You can look around if you’d like.”

“Thank you very much.” Harry nodded his head.

“Yes, thank you.” I added.

 The older man over exaggerated his one-person act that involved stacking another table against the wall. His breathe evolved into a cough that did not sound anywhere near healthy. He turned around to face us and I cringed. Taking a break, he brushed his hands against the fabric of his pants.

“I suppose _someone_ should introduce you to the executive manager of this place,” he cockily stated, reaching his hand out to meet us.

Harry was the first to engage. He brought his hand out to accept the manager’s downgraded welcome.

“Nice to meet you,” he examined the nametag that was clipped to the man’s button-down shirt. “Mr. Phas.”

“It’s pronounced _pass_ ,” the manager snapped. He released his grip on Harry to adjust his bolo tie; “The H is silent.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

I could see Harry becoming distant in embarrassment. We glanced at each other for a millisecond. _What’s his problem?_

I tried to brighten the situation. “We were considering on reserving this hall for a wedding reception this fall.”

“Really? Congratulations!” Mr. Phas nodded his head. The change in attitude was not very pleasing. Suddenly, he coaxed; “Where’s the lucky lady?”

“Excuse me?” I frowned.

“Your bride, sir,” the manager chuckled; “It’s rather customary for both parties to visit the reception hall before setting a date.”

Harry set forward once again with a neither brave nor sheepish tone. “I am here, Mr. Phas.”

“Oh,” the older man retorted; “Both of you.”

His eyes shot down at our hands before spotting Harry’s ring. Something beneath the man’s face gave out a prickly grimace. His eyes perched back up again, now stern and vulgar than ever. Something told me it was not from his habit of rolling his eyes so much.

“I did not realize.” Mr. Phas concluded, “Pleasure.”

Without the decency to excuse himself, he trotted away from us. We heard the French doors close with a thud. I turned to Harry.

My mate shook out a sentence. “Well, that was weird.”

“Shhh.”

I held an index finger to lips. The sailor’s hall, compiled with the distant sound of waves forming a crashing, did not give the impression of calmness. Something was not right. I could tell. I mouthed out a few words to Harry, instructing him to listen. Instinct told me to investigate the muffled words that were coming from the hallway. I edged closer to the French doors. After looking through the glass, I found that it was safe to pass the threshold.

The doors were silent enough to sneak through. Harry followed along at a fine distance. My back faced the wall to avoid being noticed. After tiptoeing around the furnishings, I eventually came across a corner. Harry ad I stayed quiet as gossip hunters searching for a conversation. My ears picked up what was being discussed between two personas from down the hall. The topic was unclear at first until the jackass pondered the receptionist with his predicament.   

“Deny them service. These men are engaged.”

“And?”

“Did you see the ring on that fag’s finger? Doesn’t he like himself?”

“Sir, I don’t believe this is protocol. When they spoke to me, they were polite from the start.”

“Does that really matter in the end? I don’t like them-especially the short one. The man’s as gay as the Eiffel Tower.”

I decided I heard enough. Bursting out from my spot behind the corner, I confronted the homophobe full throttle.

“Hey, Phas. How would you like me to kick your a-”

“Louis!” Harry made an attempt to clasp his hand around my elbow.

I shook it off at first contact. “Save it. We’ve seen enough.”

It seemed as if I was dragging Harry along with me. Mr. Phas stood with enough pride to supply his status as a douchebag. Harry avoided eye contact, but turned to the receptionist as I dragged him past them.

“Thank you for your time,” he tried his best to keep his composure while his body could do nothing but trail behind the force of my hand.

“Good. Walk away, tinsel toes! Save us the trouble. Have fun in Hell!”

“Gladly!” I shot back at the start of the staircase. “In the meantime, you can choke on your bolo, you fucking prick! Piss off!”

I released Harry to flash out a middle finger before I stormed down the staircase. Rubbing his wrist, he reluctantly followed me while I muttered out my insults. The car ride home was as calm as the eastern sea. The winds raged on and so did my anger.

**.           .           .**

“Don’t you think you’re overrea-?”

“NO!”

We were home. The flicker that sparked my hysteria never faded away. I paced around the kitchen with a kick in my step.

“I can’t believe this. To think that they can run a business with that son of a bitch! I really hope you agree with me on this.”

“Y-yes.”

At first, I thought nothing could bring my anger down. Harry’s stutter triggered my conniption to come to a sudden halt. A memory of stuttering relapsed in my head. _Harry is frightened_. He never did like it when people yell. A sigh escaped my lips as I realized that a ranting daddy was not a cup of tea Harry ever liked to taste. I slowed my pace down to meet with Harry in a calmer manner. Brushing my hands up and down his sides, I apologized.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said; “I just wish today would have been easier on us.”

The mood lightened, but only slightly on my part. Harry returned with a much needed fact.

“Not all is bad,” he brought his attention to his left hand; “I got my ring back.”

I smiled at the bright side my baby was focusing on. My arms slipped down to embrace Harry from behind. The back of the chair poked at my chest. As a solution, I focused on my chin. I rested my head on his shoulder. My fiancé’s long hair flailed along the side of my face. In order to avoid the itchiness, I brushed a small section to the side to present my lover with a kiss. I could feel him smile. After pecking his cheek, Harry’s head rotated slightly towards me.

“Everything will be OK, right?”

To be honest, I was just as unsure as he was. If we came across one homophobic employee, how many others would we come across in the future? The idea poisoned my thoughts like a never-ending nightmare. It scared the crap out of us on a personal level that no one could ever explain in vivid detail. To be unaccepted. To be discouraged and shamed. These are the pains we suffer. This is what we endure. And by the outcome of these results, that is what we had to live with.

The next phone call came later in the afternoon while I was lying on the couch watching the television. It carried a familiar number.

“It’s Sailor’s Fleet,” I informed Harry, unaware of the decision on whether to accept the call or not.

My baby, sitting on the floor with his toys sprawled around him and a pacifier in his mouth, replied with silence.

“Should I?”

The ringtone wailed on.

Harry nodded momentarily. I got the message. Getting up from the couch, I retained my business persona.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hi, is this Mr. Tomlinson or Mr. Styles?” The voice was quite recognizable.

“Yes.”

“Sir,” Ms. Dickenson sighed; “I’d like to make a through apology for today’s incident.”

I welcomed it. “Yes?”

“I did not enjoy Mr. Phas’ reflection on your personal lives. As a matter of fact, it is against the handbook. So, I spent the afternoon having an important discussion with the owner of this establishment.”

            I could feel my eyebrows rise. All I could hope was for this conversation to not go to waste.

“I’m pleased to inform you that the manager that has offended you and your fiancé has been discharged. We do not stand for prejudice and discrimination of any kind. I hope this pleases you.”

I did not notice Harry waddling beside me. He watched me smile from his crawling position on the tile floors below me. My baby watched with anticipation.

I returned, “It does.”

“I’m glad. Homophobia is such a disrespectful cause. I hate to have your experience here ruined by a rude employee.”

I agreed with Ms. Dickenson as she continued.

 “If you’d like, I can reschedule an appointment without any interruptions. As for your thoughts of reserving the reception hall, I can give you time to think about it at your leisure. If you want to withhold the offer, I completely understand.”

My heart perked up inside of my chest. I snatched the opportunity immediately. “Y-yes, I would like to make a reservation.”

“Excellent,” Ms. Dickenson confirmed the gratitude released in the atmosphere; “For what day, sir?”

Looking down, I let out a delightful grin to my beloved baby boy.

“November 22nd, 2015. A Sunday.”

“Thank you very much for your time. Please call me again once you have arranged a guest list. We’ll discuss the invitations, the décor, the catering, and then we should be all set.”

“I will. Thank you very much, ma’am.”

The kind receptionist returned the magic word before hanging up. Glancing down at my phone, I could nearly feel the array of hope that would start it all.

Harry pulled the pacifier out of his mouth. “Daddy?”

Bending at the knees, I brought myself down to face the love of my life. My hand swiped across his forehead to lightly brush away the hair from his face. I presented the gratifying message with plenty of joy and happiness to come.

“Baby,” I said; “We’re getting married.”


	13. Divine and Conquer

**Louis POV**

The nautical wedding was certainly yonder way. With the dispute over the reception settled and the ring sizes fitted, Harry and I were more than happy to continue on through our wedding planning. We agreed to shop for our special outfits for the wedding separately. If it was unlucky to see the bride in her gown before the wedding, it did not contrast to whatever style of suit I was planning to wear. So we took precaution and went our separate ways.

After a few rounds of measurements and the never-ending styles to choose from, it felt I was playing a game of “one suit, two suit, black suit, white suit”. No matter how far I got into the fashion industry, Harry and I both agreed that white was not an option. It wasn’t because of any stereotypical matters. We just thought it looked way too posh.

            Eventually, I settled for a blue surge suit with a single breast pocket. Whatever Harry found pleasant would be a mystery until November, though I predicted a hopsack material. When we got home with both of our suits hidden inside their traveling sacks, my fiancé and I were both exhausted. That being said, it was nothing a quick cup of tea couldn’t uphold. Within moments, Harry was fitted in a diaper, a shirt, and some shorts. He officially returned to his childlike persona. With the rest of that Sunday afternoon to spare and summer blaring outside, we found a quite simple, yet fulfilling solution.

“Now, where could that boy have gone?”

Hide and seek was a treasure most adults forget about. The satisfaction of finding your friends in the strangest of places brought great delight to me as a young lad. I had no problem with counting to thirty with my head pressed up against the wall and my baby boy scurrying away to find a place to take refuge until I found him.

What I did not like was the feeling of worry that quickly aroused when my playful little boy couldn’t be found. After checking the bedroom, the closets, the basement, and anywhere else that could hide a tall soon-to-be-married man with no luck whatsoever, I got scared. It wasn’t until I looked out the window where I found the sneaky culprit. The silhouette just barely visible behind a tree next to the fence was none other than my long-haired fiancé. At first, I couldn’t help but laugh at the lad. Then I remembered the list of rules I arranged for him.

_Do not go outside alone. You’re my baby and I wish to protect you._

This had to be addressed, but I was not going to be stern about it. Recollecting the olden days when I was an actor in high school, I put on the best scavenging show I could muster. This was equipped with glancing around everywhere except for the obvious spot. Backing up, I dramatized my way towards my target. Turning around, I was greeted with Harry and we both had a laugh.

“You found me!” He chucked, “now it’s my turn.”

He was about turn towards the tree, but I stopped him before he could count.

“Yeah, but Harry, I’d like to talk to you for a second.”

My baby boy returned to me with a look of innocence.

I began subtly, “do you happen to remember a specific rule about going outside when you’re not supposed to?”

Shaking his head, Harry replied; “No, daddy. I can’t remember.”

“Are you sure?”

Watching him shake his head again made me believe him.

“You’ve forgotten. Harry, I’d like you to stay inside with me when we’re playing, ok?”

Quietly, my baby nodded his head as he listened.

 “I just don’t want you to go missing on me. That’s all,” I reached for his hand; “Now come on, let’s get inside before the neighbors see us.”

I started to lead Harry towards the house when my baby boy let out a mutter.

“That’s a silly rule.”

“What?” I slowed down my stepping to turn back to him.

“Not allowed to go outside,” Harry pouted as he followed me through the back door.

“You don’t like it?”

“I don’t see the point in it.”

Locking the door gave me a brief moment to contemplate. Because we were home, it was quite normal for Harry to have the headspace of a wee lad. Though I could never recall him complaining on a rule.

I flocked to where he stood and put my arms around him. “Well, you’re my baby. You know I can’t let you go out alone.”

“But I just wanted to play,” Harry’s eyes were glancing at me with a tiny sparkle.

He was testing me.

“Haz, I would if I could, but those are the rules.”

“Bu-”

“You’re not in trouble,” I quickly remarked, with a slight raise in my voice; “Don’t get excited.”

“But I-”

“No buts.”

With an unfulfilled pout, Harry inched away from me. He was about to enter the next room when I heard another murmur escape his lips.

“Meanie.”

I had to call it out. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” my baby boy had an immediate response, which was rather common due to many problematic encounters.

“I don’t think so,” I was right on his tail immediately; “Harry, what did you call me?”

“Uh …” The look on my face ordered him to give an answer.

“A … Meanie,” he finally cracked.

“Go to the corner,” I pointed to the direction of the living room. “You’ve earned yourself a time out, young lad.”

“But-”

“Enough,” I shut him up; “Move.”

Deciding to withdraw from talking back, Harry was marching for the stool in no time. I watched him prop himself down on the stool and lower his head. I had confirmed in my head that he deserved a fair ten minutes in time out. This was nothing major. I just hoped he wouldn’t make it bigger than it had to be.

When the timer on my phone resounded, I got up to release the boy from his punishment. However, I was stumped by the way Harry was particularly sitting. I could see that he was clearly fidgeting in his seat. Getting a different angle with a closer look confirmed it. The naughty stool had taken its toll on Harry more than what was expected. The bulge in his diaper showed it.

“You just can’t behave yourself, can you?”

Harry jolted in his spot. I couldn’t see his face, but instinct had caused him to whimper. He did not answer me.

“Stay right there,” I ordered before going off in search of a ruler.

Harry was veracious to remain in his shameful position. I took a subtle approach to address this issue. I sat at the end of the couch, which had become a rather familiar place to attend whenever Harry misbehaved.

Setting the ruler down beside me, I called for my baby boy; “Harry, come over here.”

He turned, but he hesitated. Both of us were quiet. He was shy, and I was growing impatient.

“Oh, come on;” I breathed out.

Standing up once more, I marched up to Harry. Grabbing his hand, I had him stand beside me. He did not a have enough time to process what I was doing when I bent him forward and started to swat his backside with my free hand. Harry coughed and eventually sniveled up a cry.

“Why are you giving me problem, love?” _SPANK_ _SPANK_ “Is this what you want?” _SPANK_ “Want me to grab you by the arm and spank you like a child?”

“N-no,” Harry used his other hand to cover his face, which was full of indignity for himself.

“Then come on over,” taking his hand, I directed him over to the couch.

I took proceeded with the usual routine. I’d sit down first and lead the poor lad over my lap. However, when Harry saw the instrument that was to punish him, he grimaced with a whine.

“This won’t be long at all,” I assured him gently; “If you weren’t being the little brat that you were, you wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

“I know …” my baby boy became silent as he adjusted his position over my knees.

I continued, “You didn’t have to add onto your punishment, honey. That’s why I’ve got the ruler. Don’t struggle too much or I’ll lock your legs. Are we clear?”

After a straggling pause, Harry replied with a nod; “Yes …”

            “Good. Now,” I went right to work at the curve of his bottom.

            Much of his backside was protected by the diaper. This convinced me to start the session with the palm of my hand. Gradually, I’d spank every section of Harry’s bottom to ensure that he would end up a thoroughly punished boy. Muffled whimpers would escape Harry’s lips every now and again, but he was brave enough not to protest. I was proud to see that my baby boy had learned so much since his first mistake of disobedience.

            I had Harry stand up so I could adjust his nappy. Slipping it down, I draped him over my knees once again. Clearly, the warm up had taken its toll on his bottom because the skin took on a light shade of pink. It wasn’t until I picked up the ruler and swatted his bum when Harry started to beg.

“Ow!” The sorry lad blurted out as he received yet another burning sting; “No! Please, dad! I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t mean to get caught,” I corrected.

The sharp quickness of the ruler shot through Harry’s bahookie, and the heat progressed. Who would’ve thought that a slim piece of wood could set a boy wailing and kicking? There came a point when I lowered my aim just slightly and the pain shot through his crack. Harry’s legs flailed out and my baby cried out sharply as his bottom clinched from the pain.

“Daddy! Stop!”

Without hesitation, I shifted my leg over the back of his knees.

“That’s not how it works, son. I decide when your punishment ends. Not you.”

            “Please!” _SPANK_ “Ow!”

            Harry was condemned to survive the last remaining moments of his spanking. My legs had successfully prevent him from flailing his legs up and down. The ruler had done its job to its full extent. Now all that was left was a lad with a sore behind and a red face. I collected the poor boy in my arms and had him rest on my knee as I hugged him. As comforting as I could, I told him to shush as he calmed himself down.

            “I’m sorry,” Harry whispered.

            “You’re forgiven,” I returned.

            I could sense his hand rubbing his eyelids behind me; “I’m so stupid.”

“No,” I did my best to reassure him; “I never said you were stupid, Haz. You just need a little reminder sometimes. Am I right?

“Yes daddy.”

“You deserved to be taught a lesson,” I continued; “I just hope you’ve realized that. Now, don’t think just because your spanking’s over means that we’re done.”

“What?”

All hopes that Harry held must have disappeared right then and there. Helping him up, I hoisted his nappy up to its original spot. He jumped from the impact as it settled on his waist.

“You were touching yourself without permission, remember?”

With the mere remembrance of his misbehavior, Harry lowered his head in shame.

“Here, follow me to the bedroom.”

From the help of my hand, Harry waddled along. Once we reached the bedroom, I ordered my baby boy to remove his nappy and to lie on the bed.

 “You wait here,” I said before I ventured off into the bathroom for a glove and a tube of capsaicin.

I had never used this type of retribution, but I was sure there’s a first time for everything. From what I’ve read off of various resources, capsaicin can be used as a weapon or a pain reliever. The substance penetrates deeply to care for the symptoms of arthritis or, in this case, discipline a disobedient youngster. The back of the package clearly stated how a burning sensation is a common occurrence. This is where the chastisement comes into play.

Harry had followed instructions just as he was expected to. I entered the room to find him lying on the bed stomach down, naked as a jaybird. I prepared by setting down the ointment to slip the glove over my hand. Joining Harry on the bed, I untwisted the cap. Squiring out just an inch worth’s length of the formula, I began to apply the substance on my baby boy’s reddened and sore bottom.

“This is just to drive the lesson home, honey.”

Harry winced from the contact, but calmed down as I continued to rub the liniment in.

"I’d like you to stay a nice, obedient little boy for the rest of the night.”

I explained what the purpose of the lotion held for him. Harry said nothing, but laid his head off the edge of the bed. He was silent, even as I was fashioning another nappy for him to wear. Harry had apologized once again, and I assured him that all was fine and good. However, as the night progressed, I could see how the lotion was affecting the humble diapered lad. Harry twitched as he crawled, but knew better than to rub and relieve himself again. I felt proud of him for holding back. I even found it clever for him to find some respite from the heat by sitting down.

            When bedtime came around, Harry settled in bed on his side. I could have giggled at the assumption, but I predicted that the pain would subside by the following morning. Harry took it to heart, trying to convince himself that this punishment was to be done and over with soon enough. Intending to brew one last cup of tea before heading off to bed, I kissed my fiancé on the forehead.

            “I’ll be back soon,” I bid farewell in a soft, quiet voice.

            “Goodnight, daddy,” Harry replied with droopy eyes.

            “Goodnight, sweet prince;” I said, “I’m proud of you.”

And I was. I truly was.


	14. A/N: The Confession

Hi folks. It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?

I’ve realized that the date I planned for the wedding portion of the story is coming quicker than I expected. What’s sad is that I did not understand that college would be way harder that it looked when I made a promise to keep writing.

I’m anxious to put all of my ideas out there and produce a magnificent fanfic for everyone to read, but I’m also anxious with school at the moment. On top of all that, on a personal note, I’ve noticed that my depression has grown throughout the school year so far. I won’t go too deep into that, but I’m just scared that nothing will go according to plan.

            I guess what I’m trying to say, again, is that I do not want to quit this fanfic. I simply refuse to. It’s just that I have to find support and time for myself before I can actually achieve anything. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for everyone’s patience. Hopefully I’ll have an update arriving soon.


	15. The Crave

**Louis POV**

Our days as soon-to-be-weds were tedious. The RSPV’s drove us bonkers. With every phone call we made, and every indecisive persona we had to face, we wondered if the amount of money needed to provide a plate to each guest was truly worth the price. Our days were counting down. The arrangements were being set in stone, and by the time we were almost done, Harry and I were too pooped to think about what would come next.

That being said, the anxieties did not override all of my emotions. Despite the times that were loaded with work, decision making, and unforgettable stress, there were moments where I was supplied with a quiet crave. It alone was a powerful trait, but it would never prosper unless it was followed by a question.

“You want me to what?”

It was a simple question, really. It felt silly to ask Harry in the middle of his own mind space, wearing diaper and all; however, that wouldn’t matter as much as the answer.

“Baby, I want you to finger me. Please.”

The tension was rising, and both of us knew that when the stakes were high, there would be no going down until something was done about it. As for Harry, his face was stumped somewhere between yes and no. Perhaps he was having a flashback of some sort to one of our previous private moments. That was probable, yet my manhood was becoming impatient. The next thing that came out of his mouth made all the difference.

“Let me get the gloves.”

“Thank you!” A sudden relief rushed over me.

Getting up from his position on the floor, Harry asked; “You remember where the lube is, right?

“Nightstand?”

“That’s right.”

            With a quick nod of the head, I knew what was needed for the upcoming procedure. I rushed to the bedroom to prepare. I sat the lubricant down on the nightstand, and assembled the other accessories. I stripped myself from my pants and knickers. My shirt was kept on due to the cool autumn weather that took over the atmosphere. I stuffed a pillow under my hips for good leverage. The joy that had aroused found the pressure appealing. The bunched up covers and the extra pillow allowed me to rest my upper body while my nether regions were propped up.

            Behind me, the door swung open to reveal a wonderful, long-haired man that looked like he could pull off doctor if only he had a long white coat. He approached the bed, crawling on in order to meet me at my side. He handled the bottle of lube with great care, pouring a generous amount to where it was needed. I could hear the dramatic snap of a glove before my partner announced himself.

“May I?” Harry seduced.

Resting my head on the pillow, I pleaded; “With pleasure.”

            It started off slow. I jolted once or twice as Harry found the correct angle to work with. When the awkwardness as faded, the sensation rose again. A moan escaped my lips as I closed my eyes.

            “Better?” Harry asked for assurance.

            “Mm-hmm,” I replied.

            It was then Harry started the experimental phase. He glided his finger back and forth, careful not to cause any pain. My bum did all the talking with the way it rode with it. I barely noticed welcoming expression across my face. Then, he worked faster, sending his pointer finger through the shaft; thereby causing me to cough from the rush. Within time, he moved onto the next finger and I buried my face in the fabrics. My sounds became muffled as he continued to pleasure me.

            How long this managed to last, I don’t recall; but I agreed to the matter of settling down when the other got tired. The rush gradually lowered, and the penetration was slowing down. Soon, my lover’s ligaments slipped out of my slender portion, and the glove was disposed. I thanked my fiancé and was about to get up from my position when a pair of puckered lips reached the side of one of my cheek. I stopped. My breath puffed out a chuckle.

I couldn’t help but pry; “Did you just kiss my ass?”

“Yes, daddy,” I felt a subtle pat on my behind; “That I did.”


	16. The Last Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Heart Belongs to Daddy – Eddy Duchin and His Orchestra --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uw1_3gzy0zA

**Harry POV**

            I believe the moment of realization struck me when I was climbing up the stairs to get to the banquet hall. I was to be married in less than 24 hours and I was scared. Louis had already assured me that everything would be fine and that he was waiting for this day to come for what seemed like centuries. I had too, but that didn’t stop me from being anxious over the amount of things that had to be taken care of before the special moment arrived.

When I entered the banquet hall, the Sailor’s Fleet took the appearance of the Sailor’s Flunk. No one was there. Yet, it did not surprise me to find that the rows of tables were only partially assembled. The job was simply being held off for another time. That gave me a bit of hope, but I was still frightened that the workers would not do their job on time. Shaking my head, I brushed that worry aside and moved onto the next one.

Since Louis and I found that hiring a D.J. would be an unnecessary addition to the bill, we took the cheap route and decided to assemble our own music for the event via iPod. What was difficult was trying to depict what would suit our music tastes, yet still appeal to our attending audience. I was never a true master at playlists, but as I scrolled through the options, I couldn’t help but review what was possible. The genres of rock and pop were typical. The classical numbers were too out of date. Then, I came across an old favorite. “Swing and Jazz” was the title of the mix. For the sake of memory lane, I tapped into the oldies just for fun.

            “I remember one-”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme that swing,”

“How much is tha-”

_No, no … no._

Each song I listened to varied from smooth melodies to jumping jives; but no matter what, my skeptical side took over. It wasn’t until a trumpet sound rang through the speakers and three familiar sisters caught my attention when I finally stopped.

“Of all the boys I’ve known and I’ve known some,

Until I first met you, I was lonesome.

And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light,

And this whole world seemed new to me.”

I’ll admit it. I couldn’t help the humming that spurred in my throat as the song progressed.

“You’re really swell, I’ll have to admit you

Deserve expressions that really fit you.

And so I’ve racked my brain hoping to explain

All the things that you do to me.”

With the spur of the trumpet leading the way, I followed along, swaying to the beat.

“Bei Mir Bist Du Shon.

Please, I’ll explain.

‘Bei Mir Bist Du Shon’ means you’re grand.

Bei Mir Bist Du Shon.

Again, I’ll explain.

It means you’re the fairest in the land.”

I must have been so consumed by the jazzy beat that I failed to notice the other presence in the room.

“I could say-”

“’Bella, bella’, even ‘Sehr wunderbar’.

Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are.”

Louis reached his hand out to me as if he was serenading me from across the dance floor. My face must have blushed bright red from how embarrassed I was.

My fiancé laughed it off; “Sorry, hon. I just couldn’t help but join in.”

I nodded. Even he knew just how much a video game could overtake your music taste. Out of pure humiliation, I tried blurting out a phrase to forget about the previous moment.

“I was just looking through songs to play at the wedding, but I just can’t decide.”

“Why not play everything? Variation is fun! Isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” I grew quiet as Louis joined me behind the podium.

Reaching from behind me, he embraced me. His chin could not reach above my shoulder, so he took a different route. Louis read through the playlist with his head to my side. At one point, he interrupted my scrolling by selecting one particular song that I forgot existed. Yet another trumpet medley was sent through the banquet hall.

“I used to fall in love with all

Those boys who maul refined ladies;”

A smile stretched across my face as I realized just what Louis had in mind. He released his hold on me. Backing away, he lend me his hand once more.

“Shall we have this dance?”

“Yeah,” I did not hesitate to join him on the dance floor.

We made our way to the center just as the female singer continued her ballad.

“But now I tell each younger belle

To go to Hell—I mean Hades.

For since I’ve come to care

For such a sweet millionaire.”

At Louis’ grace, I let him lead the dance. With one hand on his shoulder and another in his hand, I stayed close to him and we began to sway back and forth.

“While tearing off a game of golf,

I may make a play for the caddy,

But when I do, I don’t follow through

‘Cause my heart belongs to Daddy.”

At this point, our subtle sway turned into a continuous spin. Keeping our stance became a challenge, but we were thankful to have an empty room and plenty of space to share the moment.

“Yes, my heart belongs to daddy.

So I simple couldn’t be bad.

Yes, my heart belongs to daddy.

Da-da-da, da-da-da, da-daddy-ya.”

Louis winked. I giggled.

“So I want to warn you, laddie,

Though I think you’re perfectly swell,

That my heart belongs to daddy.

‘Cause, my daddy, he treats it so well.”

The influential jazz age continued. Meanwhile, I tried not to step on my partner’s feet. Louis’s small hand kept a gentle hold on my waist as we danced. Around the building, the waves that stretched across the windows also seemed to join in with the rhythm.

“Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy.

So I simple couldn’t be bad.

Yes, my heart belongs to daddy.

Da-da-da, da-da-da, da-daddy-ya.

So I want to warn you, laddie,

Though I think you’re perfectly swell,

That my heart belongs to daddy.

‘Cause, my daddy, he treats it so well.”

Sensing the conclusion to a beautiful song, Louis’ hand stretched up and his heel raised. I saw the sign, and dipped low in order to spin under the bridge he had created. When I returned to the position we were in before, I was met with the eyes that would care for me for as long as I lived. With that in mind, the warm smile never left my face as the orchestra made its final stance. 

“He treats it, and treats it, and then he repeats it.

Yes, daddy, he treats it so well.”

            The room was silent once more. We, as the soon-to-be-wed couple, did not jolt from our place. Louis tilted his head. I did the same. Drawing closer together, we met each other at the lips for a long, passionate kiss. The invisible, dazzling sparks flew around us for we knew it was all set and done.

            Our love would stand forever, starting tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits (In Order)
> 
> No Swinging in Your Walking – Black Cat Zoot
> 
> Gimme That Swing – Cissie Redgwick
> 
> How Much Is That Doggy In The Window? – Patti Page
> 
> My Heart Belongs to Daddy – Eddy Duchin and His Orchestra


	17. FINAL: The Promised Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Want to Write You a Song - One Direction (Piano Cover) --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0OzevdTkDo&index=49&list=WL

**Harry POV**

            “Meet you at the hall, love. See you very soon.

            All for yours, Louis”

            I barely noticed the note on the nightstand when I awoke to an empty bed. A sudden realization forced me into a shock.

            Today was the day.

I could have cried right then and there, though I knew there would be plenty of time for that some other time. The closet was missing one of the two suits that hung there the previous nights. The rings had gone before me as well. For a moment, I considered what it was like to be the bride of the matrimonial declaration. It was unlucky to see her before the big event. In this case, I supposed that superstition remained the same.

I prepared for the beautiful day by showering first. I made myself look presentable before heading out for that long solo drive. When I got behind the wheel of my car, I wasn’t so sure that my confidence would last forever.

All I could think was,

_Full steam ahead._

.           .           .

          Everyone stood at the sound of the piano. The musician’s fingers danced about the keys as the wonderful notes of ‘here comes the bride’ echoed through the church. A small girl with a basket of petals walked slowly down the aisle. On the inside, she must have felt terrified from all of the anxious, staring faces. They were all waiting for me to arrive.

            I felt like an angel with the bushel of trimmed roses clenched in my hands. The traditional veil was absent, but the long curls followed through. Tears streamed down my mother’s face and her handkerchief rose up to absorb the pending river. The winds of November battered at the lake outside. No matter what the weather, it was a pleasant day for getting married. I continued to walk down the aisle until I was met with the groom. The piano halted into a peaceful silence.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister began, “we are gathered here today …”

We all know that script. There was no need to hear it. The words of the ministered muffled down. Our coworkers and friends, our groomsmen, were quiet alongside us. The lazy guests that tried their best not to snooze from the long drive here and all the rest seemed to disappear. The moment was shared between Louis and me.

            “… To join together these men in holy matrimony …”

We were patient. Both us stood directly across from each other with smiling eyes. While the minister continued, there were multiple guests becoming annoyed. Surely, all they wanted to do was to party at the reception. The groomsmen were obviously heating up from all of the lights the Sailor’s Fleet had to offer. Meanwhile, Louis and I stood holding hands. For once, our tattoos bonded together like the pictures on the wall. Our patience had finally came with a purpose.

Finally, the minister said, “may we present the vows?”

Louis turned to me, almost eagerly, and took a deep breath before reciting his speech.

           He spoke, “I love you, Harry. I give you this ring.”

Lightly holding my hand, he slipped the ring onto my finger.

“Wear it with love and joy. I choose you to be my husband.”

I was grateful. It was a perfect fit for a band of gold. The audience nodded with gratitude on his performance. Now, all eyes were set on the minister, and it was clearly shown that there was a very important question to be asked.

            The minister asked, “Will you have this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward? For better or for worse? For richer or for poorer? In sickness and in health? To love and to cherish as long as you both shall live?” The minister’s question rang through the hall.

           “I do,” Louis nodded.

           “I do,” so did I.

           With that, the minister closed his book.

“I now pronounce you man and husband. You may kiss”.

           The groom let go of my hand and raised his arms to my head. His fingers crusaded through my hair, brushing it away from my face. The proud groom’s palms reached for the back of my head, cupping me with a gentle touch. My eyes took in every detail of my husband’s face, threatening to overflow with salty, delightful tears.

            We pulled ourselves for the kiss to change our lives forever.

            The hall echoed with applause. The audience was delightful and cheered for the newlyweds. The party had begun for the family. We were filled with an overwhelming sense of joy. It seemed like a dream. So much so that, before Louis and I paraded down the aisle, I was scooped up in a bridal style fashion.

              “Please don’t drop me. I am fragile.”

            “No worries, love. I gotcha.”

            I believed him. He always did.

**THE END**


End file.
